A picture of Dorian Gray
by CorvidCoccinelle
Summary: Eighteen year old innocent Isabella Swan visits the home of Oscar Wilde on her trip to Europe. There she meets a man with a reputation for debauching young innocents, Edward Cullen. Miss Swan is swept into the sordid underbelly of Victorian London.
1. Chapter 1

This story is different from my other writing, but please give it a go! This is set AU, please see footer for A/N notes re characters. Thanks for reading this.

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I had spent the afternoon with Constance picking out a dress for the evening. She was so kind, the way she had taken me under her wing when I had arrived in England was a testament to her gentle nature. It had been hard for me to leave Mama and Papa and board the ship for England but I knew they had my best interest at heart and that they were hoping I would enjoy my time in London with the Wildes.

Mama and I had been planning my trip to London for months. Having visited Europe herself before she had met and married Papa, she was keen to allow me this opportunity to see the world before I too settled down with a husband and a household of my own. Despite Mama's concerns with propriety she was still at heart the adventurer she had been in her youth.

I was to be accompanied on my journey by Mr and Mrs Fisher, friends of my parents whom I had known since I was an infant. They would be visiting Mr Fisher's family in Edinburgh and it was decided I would travel with them as far as London, where I would stay with Mama's cousin Lady Fanthorpe and then travel on to Edinburgh to meet the Fishers to continue our trip on to Paris, Rome and Vienna.

When we received the letter informing us that Lady Fanthorpe had fallen ill and would not be able to accommodate me in her London home I was bitterly disappointed. It was then that good luck smiled my way, or so i thought at the time.

Papa had met Mr. Wilde on his lecture tour of the States. He had been speaking on the 'Aesthetic Movement' of which he was a founder and Papa had found his lecture most entertaining. Later, when invited to dine with us, Mr. Wilde regaled us with stories of fashionable London and insisted that must stay with his family in London when I took my journey to England later that year. His wife, Constance loved company and he felt that i would be an excellent companion while he was often away, preoccupied with his writing. I was extremely flattered by this as he had described his wife as being one of the cleverest and kindest people he had ever met. Mr Wilde quizzed me on my favourite novels and declared to the table that he knew that Mrs Wilde and I would get along famously. My dream of seeing London was rekindled.

so it was with no little anticipation I disembarked the train at the magnificent building at Charing Cross. Mr and Mrs Fisher who had accompanied on the trip on the request of my parents bade me farewell at the station and continued on their trip to Scotland. Mr Wilde was nowhere to be seen and instead it was Mrs Wilde, she soon insisted I call her Constance, and her children, Cyril and Vyvyan who greeted me at the platform. They were delightful little boys who were much excited to hear of my journey from America on the great ship and much of the carriage journey to their house was taken up with their eager questions.

34 Tithe St. Chelsea was a home worthy of such a famous man. One of parlour rooms was furnished and decorated entirely in white. I had never been in such a fashionable house, despite Mama and Papa's money they were conservative in their preferences. Constance showed me to my new home for the next few months, a reasonable sized guest room on the second floor of the house. A large bunch of lilies adorned the dresser which faced the window out into the garden. The wallpaper was an ivory silk with a charming hand painted canary yellow peonies. The bed was similarly dressed in yellow and white silk and there was a large wardrobe in which to store my clothes.

While Constance supervised the maid in unpacking my trunk she explained to me that Oscar was throwing a little 'soiree' in my honour the next evening and, even though I had brought only my most fashionable clothes with me, she insisted that we go out shopping the very next day to buy a dress to 'show me off to perfection' as she put it.

The busy streets of London were a treat to me as we sped along glimpsing all the life which crowded into the capital. We stopped at several fashionable ladies' outfitters; the assistants bustled forward with their tape measures and chalk, displaying fabrics over their arms like sellers on an Indian bazaar. Constance refused them all and I was despairing that I would have to wear one of my old dresses when we finally stopped outside a small shop on Bond St.

The interior was an Aladdin's cave of clothing. Exquisite petticoats hung from the ceiling, suspended on their hoops by delicate chains which could be lowered for the customer's closer inspection. The proprietor assured us he could have a dress fitted and delivered to Tithe St by seven o clock this evening. Constance declared this perfect and selected for me a fabric of heavy silk in bold red and white stripes. I was shocked at the design of the fabric, preferring the subtler shades and patterns but Constance insisted that these colours would bring out the red in my chestnut hair and the brown of my eyes. In the end I acquiesced, after all she was the wife of Mr. Oscar Wilde, the most fashionable man in London and everyone said that he consulted her on his own fashions.

So it was not without some trepidation that I watched the maid carefully unpack the dress from the chiffon of its wrappings. It had been delivered on the dot of seven by a young man who was very much out of breath. Dinner was to be served at nine and I had plenty of time to prepare myself.

I lounged in my hot bath, my hair carefully piled up on my head so as not to get wet and observed the dress hanging on a tailor's dummy in the other room. The intricate folds and delicate buttons were a work of art alone and it astonished me that it had been made at such short notice, but then the Wildes were no doubt very prestigious customers and their patronage bring more than a few pounds through the door of any establishment they frequented. Still it was a beautiful dress.

Dried and perfumed, I stood before the long mirror as my maid helped me into my clothes. The corset pulled tightly in at my soft waist until it was just eighteen inches around, an inch for every year of my life. The whalebone nipped at my ribs and from the comfort of the bath I was once again confined in the slender cage which society deemed to be attractive for the female form. The maid smiled at me in the mirror as I turned slightly to see the true effect of the corset on my waist.

'You'll look beautiful Miss Isabella, 'she murmured shyly. I smiled, she had been kind to me during my short stay in the Wilde's home and I appreciated her careful way with the tight lacings of the corset. As I stepped into the dress and she pulled it over my shoulders to button it along the line of my spine I looked up into the mirror. It really was a beautiful dress.

The crimson bands showed out gaily against the pale silk of the delicate frill around the neck. Tiny pearl button crept from the waist of the dress over the curve of my breasts to nestle in the soft hollow of my throat. The sleeves billowed slightly out to nip in at the cuff in the modern 'leg o mutton' style. I slipped my slender feet into the silken scarlet shoes and looked down as my feet were again hidden in a swathe of crimson and ivory folds.

As I sat at my mirror, my maid coiling and fixing my hair with the diamonds Papa had given me for my birthday, Constance entered the room. The maid stood to leave but Constance motioned for her to continue her work. As the nimble fingers pinned my hair up into the latest style, fastening in a single crimson feather to curve around the nape of my neck Constance sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me.

I was surprised by this informality but I had noticed that the Wilde's were not like other people in their habits. And in truth it was nice to have her sit and speak to me as my maid passed me now the diamond choker and earrings which picked out the sparkle of the brilliants in my dark hair.

'Isabella, my dear you look beautiful. No doubt my husband will make a witty epigram on your name when you enter the room tonight.' She laughed pleasantly and I smiled with her as I smoothed a tiny touch of rose to my lips. 'Will you be wearing powder Isabella? I have the most delightfully scented powder which dear Oscar bought for me in Paris.' Constance rose to get the powder but I shook my head.

'Thank you Constance for your kind offer but I think I am not quite brave enough to wear powder like an actress.' I blushed at my boldness and Constance smiled at me, a teasing older sister.

'Oh when you meet The Jersey Lily you will no doubt realise how brave she really is,' giggled Constance, 'to be on the stage with all those men, looking at her! I don't think I could bear it.' She shook her head and we laughed together. She stood behind me, her hands upon my shoulders and our eyes locked in the mirror. I was suddenly overcome by her kindness to me, she hardly knew me and yet here she was, welcoming me to her home and buying me dresses. I reached to my shoulder where her pale fingers rested and held them in my own small hand.

'Constance, you have been too kind. I feel as though you are the older sister for whom I always longed.' I stood impulsively and hugged her to me. If my bold American ways surprised her she did not show it for she put her arms about me and hugged me back warmly.

'Sisters.' She agreed her mouth next to my ear, her gentle breath on my neck.

Men's voices could be heard from the elegant white drawing room as Constance and I carefully navigated the stairs. Our skirts where not the wide affairs that the older ladies wore back home but the refined fluted shape worn by the most fashionable ladies in London. How Mama would have stared if she'd seen her daughter in such a grown up dress. There was no bustle at the back, the dress showed more of my shape than I was used to and I was glad of the corset which pulled my waist in so prettily, instead there was a small pad at the bottom of the back which helped the drape of the skirt. Nevertheless the skirts were long and we were careful to hold the banister so as not to trip and fall.

As I came into the room behind Constance I was struck by the change wrought upon the room by the sunset burning through the wide window in lustres of vermillion and gold. The soft light played over the expensive silks and made the room even more breathtaking than it had been in its innocent white of the daytime. Mr Wilde was seated in a large armchair, the white velvet of the chair's cushions tinged with the ruby of the light contrasted with his yellow stockings and green velvet jacket. He was a large, fleshy man who would have been unattractive if it hadn't been for his exuberant personality. At our arrival he waved a hand which boasted a large ring with a striking gem perched on its apex.

'Ah my darling wife! Ah La Belle Swan! The beautiful swan!' he enthused in a dramatic voice. The other gentlemen in the room turned to look at us. One of them was a tall, well built man. His thick moustache curved over his top lip to meet his beard below, covering half of his face in thick fur like a bear. In fact he reminded me most profoundly of a bear I had once seen stuffed in the hallway of an aunt whom I had visited when I was a child. He smiled a friendly smile and took my hand as I held it out to him.

'This,' waved Oscar from his chair,' is Mr. Bram Stoker, business manager of the Lyceum Theatre and aspiring novelist.' He indicated the man besides Mr. Stoker, a smaller gentleman whose sideburns were long and bushy. The smaller man had quick bright eyes and he took no time in taking in my whole person in his gaze. 'This is Mr. Sheridan Le Fanu, writer of the gothic and the horrible.' Mr Le Fanu smiled shyly, I found myself warming to the two men as they rose and Mr. Stoker crossed to ring the bell for a servant to pour us a glass of wine.

'I trust Miss Swan you are enjoying the sights of London town,' his moustache rose and I assumed this was a smile. His voice was deep and with a slight cadence I had also noticed present in the voice of Mr. Wilde.

'We are all Irishmen here Miss Swan,' said the softly spoken Mr. Le Fanu as he passed me my glass, 'perhaps this is the only house where you would find such a gathering of Irish writers.' He raised his glass to me as I took a sip of the wine. The taste was something I was not used to, being only allowed to drink water and tea with Mama. I was terrified that it would 'go to my head' as I had heard that it might, I took another cautious sip and checked myself to see if I could discern any effect. I could find none and so I continued to sip.

'Ah, La Belle Swan appreciates the grape gentlemen!' Oscar laughed and daringly clinked my glass with his own spilling a little onto my white glove. I blushed and the gentlemen laughed again until Constance gently scolded them for their teasing. I was standing enjoying the new taste of the wine and the new experience of being treated as a young lady by this sophisticated company when a servant announced the arrival of two more gentlemen.

'Ah, now the evening can really begin!' Oscar strode across the room to the door. The light in the room had dimmed and the sun had set leaving the room more mysterious with its quivering gaslight. Our shadows loomed large on the wall behind us. Constance, tall and statuesque moving gently in the gaslight next to Oscar's broad and exuberant silhouette. Mr Le Fanu and Mr. Stoker, small and large beside each other, like a grizzly bear and a little gnome. My own outline, slender and delicate like a lily shivering in the flickering light. Added to these came two new shadows, one of a young man his hair curled like an angel and his companion whose darkness towered over him, brooding and dark.

Oscar was clasping the hand of the angel haired young man and as he walked into the light I saw his hair was as golden as a cherub's and his face was beautiful and smiling.

'My dear Bosie,' Oscar enthused, turning to me he swept his arm wide, 'La Belle Swan, this is my good friend Lord Alfred Douglas.' I curtseyed as well as I was able in the tight confines of my corset and narrow skirt. The young man smiled an open smile to me and put out his hand to grasp mine. He pulled me gently to my feet.

'We'll have none of that here, Miss Swan, not in Oscar's house where we are all equals.' He beamed at Oscar the depth of their friendship showing in their smiles to each other. Oscar turned to Bosie's companion and clapped him on the back in a familiar fashion.

'And the dangerous rake about town, Mr Edward Cullen!' Oscar's laugh boomed out as he brought the other man forward with a sweep of his hand. He lowered his voice in a mock whisper, 'beware Miss Swan, for Mr Cullen eats young innocents like you for his breakfast!' The party laughed and the young man raised his eyebrows in amusement.

'_All _young innocents isn't it Edward?' chimed Lord Alfred's sweet voice, 'not _just_ the ones like Miss Swan!' Oscar laughed even more uproariously at this. Edward Cullen nodded to me and turned to Lord Alfred.

'I eat them _before _breakfast Bosie, _after_ breakfast I meet you at the Savoy!' Everyone laughed at his clever comment and we went in to dinner.

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I had dreamed of my first real dinner party for a long time. When Mama and Papa had told me of their decision that I should take a trip to Europe after my birthday I had imagined an evening just like this one. The food had been delightful and I was getting quite a taste for the wine. The dining room was furnished in reds and golds and, in the bright lights of the gas lanterns, the silver and glasses sparkled like a fairytale land. I was seated with Mr. Le Fanu on my right and Constance on my left. To her left, Oscar took the head of the table as naturally as a king to a throne. He laughed his way though dinner, though I noticed he ate all of what was put upon his plate. He made witty remark after witty remark and I laughed so much that I feared I would faint from lack of breath between the laughing and my tight corset. Beside him sat Lord Alfred Douglas, I could not wait to tell Mama that I had sat at dinner with a real live Lord! Mr. Cullen sat opposite me and Mr. Stoker on his right.

I was enjoying nearly all of my evening. I say nearly all because, but for one small thing, my enjoyment would have been complete. That one small thing was Mr Cullen. I found myself quite able to join the conversation, indeed I had made even Oscar laugh of which I was very proud, but when I attempted to engage Mr. Cullen I found he ignored me completely. His face would turn stony at my glance and he would force the conversation along a path he must know I had not the experience to follow. He was plainly ill mannered and his ignoring me was made quite worse by the fact that, at any moment he thought me otherwise engaged, he would stare at me with an intensity I found quite startling. The first time I caught him looking so openly at me he coughed into his hand and waved for more wine. The second time I felt quite certain that he was not looking at me, by which I mean he was not looking at my face, but that he was looking with that same obsessive fascination at my person. I crossed my hands, feigning to play with an earring in an attempt to shield myself from his gaze. He looked away, but it soon became clear to me that, once I turned to speak to Constance or to answer a question about America put to me by Lord Alfred, his eyes would once again bore out from under his thick brows to devour my appearance.

It was with great relief I accepted Mr. Le Fanu's arm and allowed him to escort me into the drawing room for drinks. Even so, I felt Mr. Cullen's eyes upon me as though he were roving my body with his long white hands. I shivered slightly and Mr Le Fanu, misunderstanding my shudder, kindly directed me so that i could sit in close proximity to the roaring fire which cheered the drawing room.

In the drawing room conversation turned to Mr. Stoker's latest writing, a story of gothic horror about a poor English lawyer who is sent to the wild, inhospitable lands of Eastern Europe and the terrible things which await him there.

'I'm sure one could meet a terrible monster just as easily at the Savoy as in Transylvania, wherever that is,' laughed Oscar. 'Your poor lawyer, what's his name, needn't have suffered the train journey!' everyone laughed.

'His name is Jonathan Harker,' explained Mr. Stoker, swirling his brandy in the bottom of his glass so the amber light of it caught in the firelight. The colour reminded me of something and I tried to imagine what it was. It seemed quite late and I was feeling a little tired. The gaslight and the fire flames sparkled with a little more vigour than they had seemed to before dinner and I felt warm and heavy. In my effort to remember where I had seen the shade before my eyes travelled the room lazily, taking in the scene before me. Everyone was standing or sitting around the fire, listening to the conversation, intent on the company, brandy in their hands as they laughed in the golden light. Every pair of eyes were on Mr Stoker as he began to weave his dark tale of mysterious creatures and foreign lands. Every pair of eyes but one, a pair of eyes as amber as the brandy in the firelight, Mr. Cullen was looking at me again with such a look of hunger in his eyes that I jumped and dropped my glass.

At once Constance was by my side.

'Gentlemen, I fear we have over tired our guest with the late hour, the brandy and the stories, 'she looked with reproach at Mr. Stoker who was standing and sheepishly apologising for the scare he presumed to have given me. 'Miss Swan and I will retire for the evening I think.' She gently took my arm and led me from the room; I smiled weakly as we left.

Once outside Constance took my hand and led me up the stairs. She undid my hair from its pins, taking off my jewellery and laying it on the dresser. Sitting me on the edge of the bed she undid each pearl button of the dress until it fell forward almost as though I was shedding another skin. With quick hands she unlaced my corset and my lungs filled out with a deep yawn as she smoothed my nightdress over my head and laid me gently on the bed. She stoked my hair until I feel asleep.

That was the first night i dreamt of Mr Edward Cullen.

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A/N in case you're not sure of the characters here's quick summary:

Oscar Wilde is a Victorian, Irish born writer best known for his comedic plays and being witty ('I have nothing to declare but my genius' is one of his sayings). He was arrested and put in prison for his relationship with Lord Alfred Douglas (Bosie to his friends)

Mr Bram Stoker wrote 'Dracula' and Mr Sheridan Le Fanu wrote one of the first vampire stories with his story about 'Carmilla', a female vampire.

Thanks to Rin, Meg and Wolfpup for their continued support!

Also big thanks to Hmonster4 who read it through for me and has been super friendly and helpful!

And to feathersmmm who told me to go ahead and write it!

Send me a review and let me know what you think of this new idea! There will be more debauchery to come I promise! Next chapter - Edward's POV!


	2. Chapter 2

I was roaring drunk by the time Bosie staggered down the stairs, his clothes crooked and a devilish smile on his angel's face. I pushed my last hour's occupation off my knee; she had spent the last hour wriggling back and forth on my lap, her gauzy dress leaving nothing to the imagination. She pouted and pecked my cheek with her rouged lips. I grimaced; I don't like to encourage affection from her type, and dug into my pocket to find it empty. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

'Bosie, dearest boy, 'I drawled out to him as he stood in the hallway adjusting his clothes. His face, framed by those golden curls everyone seemed to be so fond of, peered around the door. He saw my predicament at once and threw a few coins across to me. I caught them in one hand and swiftly deposited them in the lace gloved hand of the 'bangtail' who had amused me for the last hour while Bosie had been elsewhere amusing himself. She smiled coyly, though really after the hour we had spent she had nothing to be coy about whatsoever. I nodded and followed Bosie out onto the street where his carriage waited for us at the kerb. It was dark and we moved quickly from the house, out of the area of disrepute we had been visiting.

Bosie stretched out on the seat opposite me and I took in the relaxed air he had about him.

'So, how was he?' I winked as I pulled a small silver hip flask from my jacket and took a swig, wincing at the bite of the whisky. I offered it to Bosie, he took it and, after wiping the neck with his cuff took a generous swig.

'What infernal cheek!' I laughed at him, 'after where you mouth has been tonight!' He smiled lazily at me, he could take a joke at his own expense, it was part of the reason we had become such good friends while at Oxford and remained so after we had both left Magadalen, without our degrees I might add. He leaned his head back on the leather upholstery of the carriage and let out a deep, dramatic sigh.

'Ah! Infernal cheeks, that's what young Thomas had!' he laughed again, swigging from my hip flask. He passed back the flask and leaned back again so that his face was hidden in the shadows thrown by the gas lamps. 'Fancy dinner at Oscar's Edward?' he asked. I pondered; dinner at Oscar's was never dull but nothing to compare with the night's escapades so far. If Oscar had other guests we might find ourselves forced to behave. The idea was not appealing.

'Who'll be there?' I asked, wondering if I could dissuade Bosie of the idea. He and Oscar were firm friends and I knew he enjoyed Oscar's company nearly above all others.

'He's got Stoker and le Fanu there I think, '; Bosie's voice was amused, he loved nothing better than to bait some of what he called Oscar's respectable friends. 'The beautiful Constance of course,' at this he leant forward so his face could be seen in the gaslight and gave me a leering wink, I laughed. 'And some American young lady that they have staying with them, very pretty by all accounts.' I laughed even more at Bosie's 'sell' of the evening.

'If you're father ever finds out what you're up to and disinherits you, you could always find employment in a shop Bosie, you are the master of the persuasive tongue!' I exclaimed still laughing. Bosie waggled an eyebrow comically.

'That's what all the boys say eddy!' Bosie banged on the roof of the carriage with his cane and shouted to the driver to take us to Tithe St.

The journey there was not long and the cold night air began to sober me up sufficiently to be respectable. We were let into the house by a servant who announced us at the door to the white drawing room. I had been to Oscar's house quite a few times and was looking forward to the excellent wine and appetising meal I knew he would be serving.

The drawing room looked cosy with the gas lamps and the firelight flickering. Oscar was a master in fashion and I noted his green velvet jacket with admiration, he always wore the most stylish and outrageous clothes. He ushered further into the room introducing his new guest to us with some comment on my bad reputation. Bosie continued the joke and I parried with a reply designed to show how little I cared for social mores.

The young lady smiled politely at us but seemed to be a little overwhelmed by the company. Her highly fashionable dress appeared to be at odds with her shyness. The dress had bold crimson stripes which brought out the chestnut in her soft brown hair. Her skin was pale and her large eyes were like the hot chocolate so favoured by the young ladies of the day. It was this last feature which captured me utterly. She gave me a fleeting look into my eyes and I fought to stifle a gasp. A current of power thrummed the air between us. I felt my body harden in response to the heat of her glance. I was completely taken aback. I had felt lust before but this was something different, it was flavoured with something I had not experienced before and my mind whirled as it tried to interpret my body's reaction to this young girl. I watched, hypnotised as she placed her gloved hand on the arm of Mr Le Fanu. Her gloves were of fine white silk and so fitted that I could discern the knuckles and nails through their covering. The fingers were long and delicate and I watched them curl slightly on his arm as he began to lead her in to dinner. I found myself imagining that hand curled around me; around the hardness I could feel straining against my dark suit trousers. I shook my head to dispel the disquieting sensation which had begun to grip me and followed her into the dining room.

The table was set in such a way that I was forced to sit opposite Miss Swan, for such was her name. I tried in vain to listen to her conversation about her homeland but I must confess my mind was elsewhere. It was occupied with watching the slight rise and fall of the buttons of her dress as she took each breath. I was used to the shallow breathing of young ladies in their corsets but there was something hypnotically erotic about the image of her soft body held in place by the whalebone and laces of her underclothes. Each movement of the buttons so wrought in my mind a wanton image of her that I was beginning to wonder that my fellow guests had not perceived my distraction. I watched her eat, watched in fascination as her mouth opened and her lips smoothed along the silver prongs of the fork in her hand. I was imagining her mouth smoothing over my swelling member, her hair spilling from its careful diamond pins as she brought me to release. Startled I looked up and saw she was looking directly at me. Such a bolt of desire ran through me that I coughed to hide my embarrassment and called for more wine. Miss Swan looked swiftly away, her expression one of annoyance.

Dinner was a torture; I did not dare to speak to her directly. She had such a power over me that I imagined plucking her from her chair and ravishing her here on the table before Oscar and his distinguished guests. I was desperate to leave and yet I could not bring myself to go. I fear she thought me very rude as I avoided her completely but every time she was engaged in conversation my eyes drank in the sight of her, intoxicating and alluring.

We retired to the drawing room once more and Bosie brought me a glass of brandy and drew me into the conversation by asking what I thought of Stoker's new idea for his novel. Dragging my eyes from Miss Swan for a moment I listened to Stoker outlining the plot for his latest work. I tried my best to listen carefully but found myself once again staring at Miss Swan, who seemed to be in some sort of trance. Her breathing was laboured and her eyes heavy, she blinked slowly and looked right at me, her eyes locked with mine. I could not tear my gaze from hers and she must have seen something of my feelings towards her because her mouth opened into a silent 'o' and she dropped her brandy glass to the floor.

In a flurry Constance was there, reproaching Stoker for scaring her and ushering Miss Swan from the room. I felt both a terrible longing for her and relief that the evening had passed without any further embarrassment.

The conversation and brandy flowed more freely now the ladies had retired. Bosie sat comfortably on the arm of Oscar's chair and draped an arm about his shoulders. Stoker was arguing with Le Fanu about the supernatural character in his book. My thoughts were held by the idea that, upstairs Miss Swan was no doubt undressing. Try as I might to involve myself in the conversation I was utterly distracted. After a while I began to feel annoyance at this woman that she had thus ensnared me by her looks. The tantalising feeling that this was lust and something else began to unnerve me. I prided myself on being free of this kind of problem, often Bosie and I had laughed at our friends who had become attached to one woman, mooning and pining over her like a puppy dog. I liked to enjoy myself with many women and the thought of the hold Miss Swan seemed to assert over me was repellent and distressing. I made my excuses and left Oscar's house, promising to meet Bosie in the morning for breakfast at the Savoy as was out custom.

Once out in the street I hailed a cab and instructed the driver to take me to the East End. He leered at me when I gave him the name of the street which was our destination. It was a well known haunt of ladies of ill repute. The journey took about twenty minutes and by the time we were slowing down I had decided on a plan of action. I would cleanse myself of this ridiculous feeling in the best way I could.

I alighted from the cab, paid the driver and made for the door of number 17 Flower Street. On entering I was greeted by Suzie, the proprietress. She was a large woman with a heavily powdered face perched atop a round body swathed in a purple robe. She smiled broadly when she saw me, her mouth splitting into a grin which showed her sprinkling of teeth.

'Mr. Cullen, why it's an honour to 'ave you back after all this time sir!' she touched my arm with a plump hand and then removed it when I looked at her pointedly. 'I thought you'd found somewhere else to get your pleasure sir! Although I see now that you've not been satisfied by your new establishment.' She looked pointedly at my crotch where the erection I had successfully hidden at Oscar's was now obvious in the dimly lit hallway of the brothel. She cleared her throat theatrically. 'Now will it be Lizzie or Polly for you tonight sir?' she inquired waving over two girls from where they sat drinking gin and playing at cards in an adjoining room. I looked at the two bangtails as they approached. Lizzie was fair and in her twenties, usually just my sort and I had enjoyed many an evening availing myself of her willing body but when I saw Polly's brown hair and eyes I immediately knew where my preference lay.

'Polly,' I pointed indicating the girl should come with me upstairs.

'Enjoy yourself sir!' Suzie cackled after me as I took the stairs two at a time and led Polly into the first open door.

'What will it be tonight then Mr Cullen?' asked Polly already beginning to stroke me through the fabric of my trousers. 'A suck or a fuck?'

For an answer I pushed her back onto the bed. I intended to be rough and quick with her, proving to myself that I was unchanged by my strange attraction to Miss Swan. I lifted her skirt and put my hand between her legs. Polly liked a rough tumble and she was already wet for me. She wriggled a little and drew her legs wider apart as I stroked her cunny with one hand unbuttoning my trousers with the other. With a swift thrust I was inside her. I lay my weight on top of her and put my face to her ear grunting with effort as I pumped myself hard between her legs.

'That's it dear, as hard as you like. How hard you are, sir,' she panted in my ear. This was no good. Her voice was distracting me from the sensation of her hot, tightness and the feeling of her chestnut hair against my cheek. I felt my erection beginning to wane. Sensing a problem Polly began to encourage me further, telling me that this was how she liked it, that she'd never been fucked like this before. It was all wrong. I cast about wildly for something to improve the situation. I put my hand over her mouth, hoping that her silence would help me regain my resolve but even so the smell from her body was filling me with revulsion. Withdrawing myself I stood up from the bed. Polly looked up at me with disappointment. I shrugged and began to fasten up my trousers. Polly, thinking she would be without payment for the evening rolled over to adjust her clothes. The sight of her brown hair spilling out over the pillow stirred something inside me. I grabbed up the back of her skirts and entered her again, this time holding on to her hair with one hand and gripping her hips with the other. She bucked beneath me, startled my sudden assault but then regained her control and began to move with me, pushing herself fully onto my hard length. Her hair in my hand, the dark head bent with concentration at her efforts, all seemed to arouse within me an extraordinary feeling of desire and I thrust inside her, filling her completely. My body took over as I moved toward my release and I was unaware of the situation which had brought me such satisfaction until I came, spurting my seed deep inside her one word on my tongue. Isabella.

Please send me a review of what you thought of this chapter!!


	3. Chapter 3

Miss Swan's POV

I decided the very next morning that, in the future, I would be far more careful with wine. My head throbbed unpleasantly and my mouth was dry. Constance was a dear, bringing me tea and sitting with me by the bed while I tried to apologise for my sudden fatigue which had so cut short her enjoyment of the party. She was so sweet, refusing my words with a shake of her head.

'Now Isabella, I feel so responsible for your ill health. I should have known the wine and the brandy would not agree with your delicate nature.' How typical of Constance to see some reproof for herself in actions which had been all my own. She truly was like an older sister to me.

After my tea I felt sufficiently recovered to rise from my bed, although I did not wish to venture from the house. Constance was to take the boys to visit the zoo and, although originally I had planned to go with them and Vyvyan was insistent that I would feel much better once I saw the animals, I begged to be allowed to stay at home. I must admit that this was in part due to my still fragile health but I also wanted to have some time alone to think about the previous evening and to shake the disquieting sensation I had felt since I had awoken from my vivid and startling dreams of which Mr. Cullen was the main protagonist.

I waved from the doorstep as the carriage sped my kind hostess and her children off on their adventure. I requested another cup of tea from the maid and retired to the white drawing room. In the bright morning sunshine spilling into the room, there was no flavour of the night before. When I endeavoured to turn my thoughts to the events of the evening they seemed to have taken on a surreal, dreamlike quality in which Mr. Cullen loomed like some beast about to devour me. No doubt my mind was disturbed by the talk of Mr Stoker's new book and the wine I had consumed. My nightmares, in the illuminating rays now filling the room, seemed silly and girlish. I hoped I had not given a bad impression to the sophisticated guests at Mr Wilde's table. How embarrassing to act like a silly girl in front of these fashionable Londoners.

I was standing at the table in the window, nursing my tea and looking idly at the chess board set out as though ready for a game, when I saw a man nimbly take the steps to the front door, two at a time. I saw nothing of him but his dove grey suit and a shock of auburn hair which looked as though it had not been combed for weeks. I heard the maid speaking to someone in the hall and then her soft knock at the drawing room door.

'Yes?' I called out, hoping that this was someone who would not wish to stay and that I might send them away with the news that I was the only one at home. The maid entered, her face flushed and her eyes looking down at the floor. There was something awkward in her posture, something guilty. I wondered what had caused this reaction, had I sounded brusque with her? In an attempt to put her more at ease I smiled as warm a smile as my delicate health would allow. She met my eyes and smiled shyly back at me.

'Miss Swan, Mr Cullen is here.' These were not the words I had expected her to say and I imagine that my expression must have communicated this shock for she hurried on, her words tripping out fast and stumbling. 'He... has called to see Mr Wilde and I've told him that Mr. Wilde is not in, that it's just yourself in the house Miss. He's asked to wait until Mr. Wilde returns.' She looked at me in apology. I put down my tea cup hastily and smoothed a hand through my hair automatically. Her eyes flicked to my hair and I moved my hand wondering why I was so concerned for my appearance. What did it matter to Mr Cullen if my hair was in disarray? He had no interest in me, indeed he had so little interest in me that he not spoken one word to me throughout dinner, even though the party had been small and to ignore me must have been quite evident to the other guests. I interpreted his silence and his staring as the bad manners with which the confident belittle the shyer members of society. I forced a smile to my lips.

'See him in Libby. Would you make some more tea please?' Libby came in and took away the tea things, opening the door wide for Mr. Cullen to enter.

I could tell by his manner that he was disappointed to find me at home, his eyes flicked to me as he mumbled his hello. He stood gazing at the chess board, clearly annoyed by my presence. I wondered whether I should leave him alone to wait for Mr. Wilde. After all I wasn't sure if it was seemly for a young woman to be alone with a man, especially a man with Mr. Cullen's reputation. The tense silence stretched out between us. No I decided, his insolent manner igniting my temper, I would not let this rude man get the better of me. I would engage him in conversation and make him as uncomfortable as he had made me the previous evening.

'Do you play?' I gestured to the chessboard, sitting down at the side of the board set out for the player to play 'white' and inviting him to do the same. He glanced at the door, as though someone would rescue him from the obvious boredom my company evoked in him. When no rescue came he took off his gloves and laid them on the table before sitting down.

'A little.' His voice was sullen; obviously my conversation was beneath him. He irked me, this rude Englishman with his arrogance and his sense of superiority. I put my hand on the nearest chess piece, it was a knight, and moved it across the board. I banged it down rather harder than I had intended and Mr. Cullen seemed to jump at the noise. Pleased with this reaction I placed my elbow on the table and cupped my chin in my hand, I was determined to appear unconcerned by his ill manners.

A strange look came over his face as he looked at me over the table. There was something predatory in his gaze and I felt a blush beginning at my throat. To my relief, I was sure he was about to say something horrid, that moment Libby came in with the tea. I smiled to her as set down the tray on the table next to the chessboard, she curtsied and left.

To hide my discomfort at Mr. Cullen's staring I busied myself with pouring the tea. I looked up; about to enquire as to Mr. Cullen's preference for sugar and saw that he too had moved a chess piece. The black knight stood alone on the board, diagonally from my own and I realised he had made an early error. I placed the cup and saucer down at his side, quickly so that he might not hear the rattle of the crockery as my hand shook, and swiftly took his knight with my own. He looked at the board in dismay and then quickly up into my face. My initial confidence at my small victory fled and again I felt my face warm as the blood rushed to my cheeks. His look was searching as if he expected something from me, something I did not understand. Hardly a word had passed between us.

He moved another piece quickly, it was a pawn. I looked back to the board, sitting down again in my seat and letting my mind wander over the game. I had played chess with Papa since I was a little girl and I knew that my game was passable. That my opponent had copied my move gave me some insight into his strategy and I flicked my eyes across the board, assessing each move and possible countermove. I could feel his eyes boring into me and I did not raise my head to meet them until I had moved my piece, a pawn. As I looked up, my fingers still holding the pawn lightly, I was so startled by the look of concentration in his amber eyes that I dropped the piece and it rolled off the table, onto the floor and under an armchair. Without thinking I knelt down to find it. A noise from Mr. Cullen startled me and I looked up to find him on his feet and backing away from me as though I were some hideous creature too horrible and uncouth for him to suffer my presence any longer. He moved, almost ran, quickly to the door and, without turning his back on me, opened the door and fled the room.

I knelt on the floor and watched after him in silence. The look of disgust and horror on his face had cut me deeply. I realised that my behaviour had not been ladylike, I couldn't imagine Constance scrabbling on the floor for a chess piece like a servant, and I was flooded with shame. Not only did Mr. Cullen despise me as a silly fool who couldn't behave at dinner but now I had proved to him I was also a foolish girl with no idea how ladies were to conduct themselves. I stood slowly, feeling the tears begin to well in my eyes.

Mr Cullen's POV

Even the delicacies of a Savoy breakfast with Bosie did not turn my thoughts from Miss Swan. Several times whilst he recounted his own version of the previous evening, embellished upon as only Lord Alfred Douglas could embellish, Bosie stopped and looked at me as though I was beginning to grow another head.

'What is it?' I turned in my seat thinking he had seen someone behind me as he looked quizzically in my direction. He shook his head.

'It's you Eddie, something has got into you,' he laughed at his own joke. 'Something more than the usual!' I laughed weakly, he was far too perceptive and I hoped that his powers of deduction were not about to find out my secret weakness.

I had hardly slept since my unnerving encounter with Polly. My mind had refused to be still and allow sleep to smooth my troubles. Images of Polly's chestnut hair falling over her face, her bare legs spread wide and her groans of passion had plagued me all night. But I knew that it was not Polly who I was imagining bucking beneath me as I thrust into her wet cunny. My body began to respond to this train of thought and I shook my head to try to dispel these feelings. These were not feelings for a Savoy breakfast, even with Bosie.

'I'm just very tired,' I managed to sound convincing I thought, after all I _was_ tired. 'I had a taxing evening.' I raised an eyebrow and Bosie stifled a laugh into his hand as the waiter, obviously eavesdropping on our talk, brought more toast. I pushed my plate away and sat back in my chair. 'What are your plans for the day?' I asked, hoping a change in subject would distract him from his questioning.

'Well, I've got to pop and see Oscar in an hour or so,' Bosie leaned forward and poured himself more tea. 'Would you like to come?' He took in my sombre expression and misunderstood my hesitance. 'Constance will be out Eddie, she's taking the boys to the zoo. Don't you remember her saying that it would be nice for Miss Swan to see some of the sights while she is their guest?' Reassured that Miss Swan would be out I promised to meet Bosie at Tithe street later.

'I'll see you there,' Bosie stood from the table, beckoning the waiter who had brought the toast. 'I've got something to attend to first. I'll be there in an hour or so. Wait for me if I'm late.' I didn't bother to ask Bosie what he had to do this morning, I could already guess from the way the waiter smiled over at us as he brought our jackets.

I took a carriage to Chelsea but had the cabbie stop before we got to Oscar's house. I decided a short walk would do me some good and I breathed in the fresh air enjoying the crisp morning as it woke me from my sleepy stupor.

Libby, the Wilde's maid opened the door to me. She blushed prettily when she saw it was I on the doorstep. I gave her a cheery good morning and laughed as she stuttered out her answer. Libby and I were on more than speaking terms ever since the Oscar's Christmas party. I had only gone in search of another bottle of Tokay as I had explained to Oscar when he found myself and a half naked Libby in the downstairs corridor. Oscar had made some comment about the lengths some men would go to for a good drink. Bosie had joshed me about it for weeks.

Still red in the face, and who knew where else, Libby informed me that Wildes were out and I was welcome to wait in the white drawing room. I followed her in, noting appreciatively her womanly figure as she led the way.

I waited in the hall as she went into the drawing room and was wondering at the delay when she opened the door for me and there was Miss Swan.

Panic clouded my mind and I immediately started to plan my escape. The sight of her in the light streaming through the window, her hair lit up like a halo only made my base desires for her even more despicable. How could I have these feelings? Firstly, I had vowed never to fall in love at all, for I was beginning to fear that love was my malady, and secondly how could I be so attracted, it wasn't too far to say aroused, by such a milk sop of a girl? All this passed through my mind in a second. At the very same moment my body was reacting to other things about her person. Her hair was slightly untidy, less severe and coiffured than the night before. I started to wonder what it would look like after sex, when she lay on the bed dishevelled and deflowered.

'Do you play?' she asked archly and for a second I thought she had read my thoughts. I glanced to the door, wondering if it was too late to make my excuses and leave. Then I realised her hand was gesturing towards the chess board laid out on the table. She sat down suddenly, the movement causing the skirt of her morning dress to crumple under her knee outlining the shape of her leg under the table. I dragged my eyes away and sat down opposite her, hoping that she did not see my shaking hand as I took off my gloves.

I had no need to worry for her eyes were scanning the board and I took the opportunity to appreciate the fullness of her mouth, the slight pout as she thought out her move. Her face was like an open book and I was mesmerised by the way her deliberation played out in her expression. I wondered how she would look in bed, her face flushed with longing, her mouth open whispering my name as I took her.

She banged the chess piece down and I jumped, startled out of my reverie and at once conscious of her accusing glare. She rested her chin on her hand and raised an eyebrow at me expectantly. It was with some effort that I realised she was waiting for me to move a piece. There was an interminable moment where I felt sure she would hear my pulse beating wildly and notice the uncomfortable way in which I sat, my cock now straining at the juncture of my trousers. To my relief Libby brought in the tea.

Miss Swan rose to pour and I took the opportunity of her distraction to watch her white hands as she held the handle of the teapot and the saucer of my cup. Her curled fingers brought back in a flash the image of her holding tightly onto the arm of Mr Le Fanu which in turn brought me once again back to the gutter. My cock twitched and I moved, stifling a groan of discomfort at my position. Good god! Could I not control myself? Miss Swan looked up and in haste I picked up the nearest piece I could and put it down on the board firmly, swiftly calculating the complicated move of the knight I appeared to have chosen.

A small smile played at the edge of Miss Swan's lip as she regarded me. She put down my saucer and her expression was one of knowing. Did she understand what she was doing to me? Was she not the innocent she pretended to be but a minx whose desire it was to provoke me? She leaned towards me and my heart stopped beating and then resumed its rhythm at an alarming pace. I watched, hypnotised, as her hand came out towards me, angled toward the edge of the table. For one wild moment I thought she would reach beneath the table and take my hard member in her pretty white hand. I looked down sure that from her vantage point she could see my body's reaction to her presence. The moment stretched out between us. Miss Swan picked up her knight and took my chess piece.

I let out the breath I hadn't realised I was holding and looked at the board, unsure whether to be relieved or bitterly disappointed. To cover my discomfort I picked up a pawn and put it down, not caring if this was a wise move. She sat down opposite me again and her face took on that dreaming expression as she considered her strategy. I continued to stare at her, my blood pounding in my ears and pulsing painfully between my legs. I watched her hand rubbing over the top of the pawn which she was fingering, in what seemed to me a lewd gesture. I was growing more and more aroused as I watched her fingertip move back and forth across the smooth tip of the chess piece. She looked up, and must have caught something of my thoughts for she dropped the pawn and it rolled noisily from the table and disappeared onto the floor.

Before I could think or speak Miss Swan got up from the table and was on her knees. This was too much. My fevered imagination, coupled with the sight of her hair whisping over her neck as she bent away from me, the exquisite roundness of her bottom as she presented it to me from her position on the floor and the similarity of her posture to that of my imaginings threatened to expose me utterly. Indeed I was standing up and reaching out for her, to grab her and pull her close to me so that she could feel the arousal which she had provoked, to crush my lips to her neck and force my hand under her skirts, between her legs. She turned to me, her expression one of innocence. My resolve crumbled, reader, I fled.

**Poor Edward! How is he going to get this Miss Swan out of his head? **

**Send me a review and let me know how I'm doing!**

**Thanks to the awesome awesomesauce76, the delightful Rin- chan, the frighteningly clever Meg and my own nugget Wolfpup!**


	4. Chapter 4

Miss Swan's POV

I sank into the armchair by the fireplace, my face cradled in my hands and began to sob and that is how Lord Alfred found me.

'Dear Miss Swan!' he exclaimed as he rushed to kneel by my side, prising apart my fingers and scanning my tear stained face with his sweet blue eyes. 'Whatever could be the matter?' I tried to wipe my eyes with my hand but only succeeded in causing them to well up afresh. His hand went to his jacket pocket and he produced a fine handkerchief which he presented to me. He kindly stood and looked away while I blew my nose and wiped my red eyes.

'Thank you, 'I mumbled my voice weak with crying. He turned to me and his smile was so kind, so gentle and I, at that moment, felt so alone, so friendless, that I told him the truth. He listened with his head cocked to one side like a little bird, nodding occasionally. When I had finished, recalling with more tears how Mr Cullen's face had been filled with disgust and how he had fled, Lord Alfred knelt before me and took both of my hands in his own. His skin was so soft and he looked so honest and open that I knew I had done the right thing by trusting him with my feelings.

'Miss Swan, Isabella,' he began, looking to me for approval as he used my Christian name. I nodded to him and he smiled and squeezed my hands. 'Isabella, Edward is a strange young man. He is an orphan and he has never known loving family or close friends. I believe myself to be his only one. He has set his life upon a course of pleasure, he is not one for social niceties or scruples, he cares not who he upsets in his pursuits. My advice to you, as your friend and as his, is to pay no mind to what he thinks or does. He will do you the honour of affording you the same courtesy, no doubt.' He chuckled a little at this and I smiled in return. 'There,' he said squeezing my hand again, 'there is that charming smile again.'

The door opened and the atmosphere was broken as Oscar, removing his velvet coat as he crossed into the room, laughed at the sight of Lord Alfred and I in what no doubt appeared to be a comical situation.

'Not proposing marriage Bosie, dear boy?' he boomed, laughing at his own joke and the comical way that we guiltily leapt apart. Lord Alfred laughed and I joined in, happy to be distracted from my recent upset.

'On the contrary Oscar, 'Lord Alfred drawled as he went to pour himself a drink, 'I was merely educating Miss Swan to pay no attention at all to that cad Cullen.' He passed Oscar a glass of whisky. Oscar raised the glass to me and took a sip before exclaiming.

'Indeed Miss Beautiful Swan, one should pay no mind to Mr Cullen. He has two of the most valuable things in the world, beauty and youth, but no manners I'm afraid. None at all.' He took another sip. 'I am using him as a model for my latest piece.'

'Really? I had no idea,' Lord Alfred seemed amused and his blue eyes sparkled as he looked over the rim of his glass.

'Ah yes, it is a story of a depraved and dissolute youth who remains eternally young.' Oscar leaned against the fireplace and his voice took on what I now recognised as his story telling voice. Lord Alfred pulled an armchair next to mine and we looked up as Oscar told his story. 'This young man has sold his soul to devil and, as a result, his sins and debauchery do not show on his person but are visited upon a painting which he keeps locked away in the attic.'

'Does Edward know you're writing this?' asked Lord Alfred laughing.

'Good gracious no, 'replied Oscar with a chuckle, 'I would hate for him to feel he has to live up to my imagination!'

As much as I was enjoying the conversation I felt that Oscar and Lord Alfred would like to be alone, as men sometimes do, and so I excused myself with a headache and, thanking Lord Alfred for his kindness, retired upstairs to my room.

'Please Isabella, call me Bosie, all my good friends do.'

Mr Cullen's POV

I hailed a hansom cab outside Tithe St and clambered in, giving the driver my address. As the carriage rushed through the London streets I tried to expel from my mind the image of Miss Swan kneeling before me on the floor. I had no idea what she must now think of me and my mind continued along this train of thought until I reached my home. As I stepped into the sunshine I resolved that I might have hit upon the solution to my problem. I would make Miss Swan hate me.

Victor, my butler, took my coat and I went into my drawing room, throwing myself down upon a couch and folding my hands behind my head.

'Would you like me to bring you some tea sir?' he asked deferentially. I shook my head.

'Get me a brandy, there's a good man.' I waved my hand and he nodded and left the room quietly.

I lay there for some time, nursing my brandy glass and devising my plan. If Miss Swan could be brought to loathe me then I would have no more problems, I decided. Any feeling I might have for her, I repressed a shudder at the thought, would be quite pointless if the young lady in question could not bear even the sight of me. In my experience young ladies of her sort, and I had much experience with young ladies I smiled to myself, were easily shocked and all I had to do was let her know some of my more insalubrious tastes and that would be an end to it. Pleased with my decision I called Victor and bade him run me a bath.

As I descended the stairs wearing my Turkish silk dressing gown and slippers Victor informed me I had a visitor in the drawing room. Without waiting to enquire as to who this might be I went directly to the room in question. Worryingly I felt a little dismay when my visitor was Bosie, although I refused to think about whom I might have hoped it to be.

'Bosie,' I crossed the room to refill my brandy glass, 'I'm sorry I didn't meet you at Oscar's earlier. I went there but there was only Miss Swan at home. I'm afraid the company of virgins is no company for me.' I laughed lightly to show how little I cared for Miss Swan. _Liar_ whispered my mind. If he was aware of my inner struggle Bosie hid it well. His smile seemed genuine as he took the glass I offered to him.

'Thanks,' he said, 'I must have arrived at Tithe St just just after you left for I was privy to the destruction in your wake.' I raised an eyebrow and took the seat opposite him, crossing my legs and sipping my brandy. 'Miss Swan was most distressed at your manner.' He sipped his drink nonchalantly but I could feel his eyes upon me. I looked back at him with feigned honesty.

'I wasn't rude Bosie, I merely made my apologies for interrupting her morning and left. What on earth did the girl tell you?' _Yes, what DID she tell you? I wondered._

'She told me you behaved appallingly, ignoring her and then being all too obvious in your haste to get away.' He sipped his drink still watching me closely.

'Surely you don't believe a chit of a girl over your oldest friend?' I stood and walked to the window, my back to him so he couldn't see my face. Despite my brave words the voice in my head chanted one thing over and over. _You hurt her feelings. _Bosie's tone of voice changed, he seemed happy to get off the subject.

'Of course not dear boy. Not at all. It's a damned nuisance her hanging around at Oscar's. It means she'll be coming with us to Alice's coming out party. It's a terrible bore but I suppose we won't have to spend much of the evening with her.' I turned around, surprised at the news.

'She's coming to Alice's party?' I stuttered out. 'Tonight?' he nodded and sipped his brandy, a small smile playing over his lips.

***

I told myself that I wore the dove grey suit only because it was Bosie's favourite but, as I got down from the carriage outside the town house of Lord Choughton, my stomach was fluttering unnervingly. Taking up my cane I took the marble stairs to the front door which was opened by the Choughton's butler. He greeted me, and taking my coat and hat, escorted me into the ballroom where the party had already begun hours ago.

Instantly, amid the bejewelled and sparkling guests, I saw Miss Swan with Bosie and the Wildes. She was wearing the most beautiful blue gown; the colour was delicate and showed her pale skin and dark hair off to perfection. She was laughing at some comment of Oscar's and it was as though my heart stopped as I looked at her long neck and the seductive flush of her cheek. I straightened my shoulders and ignored my heart, and I must confess other regions of my person, as I walked across the room ready to be the beastly cad I had resolved to be.

'Mr. Cullen,' it was Constance who saw me first and she smiled at me as her arm led me into the closed circle of the group. 'We were just discussing art. What do you think?'

'All art is useless, 'I replied smiling.

'Useless?' asked Miss Swan with a tremor in her voice as she looked up at me. I stared back coldly in return.

'Useless.' I repeated, 'art need not have any use. Beauty is its own use wouldn't you say Oscar?' I turned away from her, cutting her from the conversation by my movement. From the corner of my eye I saw her face crumple. Her expression stung me but I continued on in my quest to repulse her.

Oscar was laughing and drawing Bosie and I away to talk to some foreign dignitary he had met. We began discussing the delights of Arabia. The conversation was animated and witty, as all Oscar's conversations are, yet I kept one eye on Miss Swan who seemed to have recovered from my slight and was speaking quietly to Lady Alice, youngest daughter of Lord Choughton. I decided this was my chance to continue with my plan.

I knew that Lady Alice, sixteen and already a great beauty, was madly in love with me. She'd been writing me letters declaring her passion for me ever since her fifteenth birthday. Her brother, Arthur, was a friend of Bosie's whom I had met the previous year at Oxford. Lord and Lady Choughton had been on the continent for the whole summer and Bosie had enjoyed the Choughton's wine cellar while I had enjoyed Arthur. The young man in question blushed furiously as I crossed the room. I ignored him and instead looked only to his sister.

'Alice, you look ravishing!' I exclaimed taking her hand and kissing it passionately. Miss Swan and Arthur looked uncomfortable. It was exactly how I wanted them to feel. I continued to praise Lady Alice, commenting on the delicate colour of her cheeks as she blushed at my compliments. Arthur muttered something and walked quickly away, his head down. Miss Swan however stood quite still as though her feet were rooted to the spot. Her face was very white and two red spots appeared on her cheeks. I ran a finger down lady Alice's cheek, eliciting another delicious blush. I murmured a comment enquiring, just loud enough for Miss Swan to hear, if the colour extended any further than I could already see. I accompanied the gesture by trailing my finger lower over lady Alice's breast and running it gently where the skin touched the fabric of her dress. She giggled and her breathing became heavy. Miss Swan made a noise, I looked up, her face was paler still and her hand was covering her mouth. She turned quickly and fled the room. I saw Bosie watch the scene and then he was striding to me and, taking me by the elbow, he led me across the ballroom and into lord Choughton's library. He whirled to face me and his expression was one of such anger that I took a step back.

'What do you think you're playing at Cullen?' His voice was filled with rage and he jabbed a finger at my chest. I shook my head, about to ask him what he was playing at when he spoke again.

'Why did you do that to Miss Swan?' his tone was severe.

'I did nothing to Miss Swan,' I drawled trying to diffuse the anger in his eyes, 'now Lady Alice on the other hand....' he jabbed me sharply with his finger.

'Cullen you're a fool man!' I'd never seen Bosie so annoyed, what was wrong with him?

'A fool?' I asked brushing away his hand, he turned as though he might throw a punch, his father was a hell of a boxer, but then he dropped his hands.

'Yes a fool,' he said looking at me now with something that looked suspiciously like pity. 'you were trying to make Miss Swan hate you, weren't you Eddie?' His expression softened when he used my college nickname. I nodded mutely, unsure where this was going and how Bosie seemed to be privy to my secret thoughts. 'Why would you want her to hate you?' he asked gently. I tried to answer, indeed I started a few sentences but trailed off when I realised that my predicament would sound foolish coming from a man with my reputation. I stopped speaking and I shook my head.

'Because you love her, don't' you Eddie? You want her and it scares you to death doesn't it?' I looked at him, was he mad? Love? Me? I began to protest and he shook my by the shoulders.

'Eddie, you do. You want her don't you? This morning at Oscar's house you scared yourself didn't you?' I began to nod but then I stopped. I couldn't admit this, not to myself never mind to Bosie. He watched my face and he nodded, he understood.

'Maybe I should just go,' I mumbled, 'maybe Madam Chang's parlour might be a distraction. I need to stop thinking Bosie.' Bless him, the good friend he was he nodded and patted my arm.

'It happens to all of us Eddie, in the most unlikely places.'

I followed him out of the library and made my excuses to the Choughton's. Alice looked disappointed and Arthur furious but I waved cheerily and left.

I hailed a cab and directed the driver to the house of Madam Chang, deep in the notorious East End. I lay back and tried to conjure some images of the pleasures I might like to try in the good lady's establishment.

The cab pulled up, I paid the driver and he swept off into the night. As he rounded the corner another carriage, pelting at break neck speed, charged towards me. The door was flung open and out fell Miss Swan.

Miss Swan's POV

I fled the ballroom; I could feel my tears coursing down my face. I opened the first door I came to and found myself in what appeared to be a library. I poured myself a brandy from the decanter on the table by the fire. I gulped down the fiery drink. It was my fifth of the evening and I was beginning to feel that familiar swimming feeling I had experienced at Oscar's party. This time I welcomed it.

From the moment Mr Cullen had entered the ballroom I had been unable to tear my eyes from him. In his pale grey suit and his soft pink silken necktie he cut a dashing figure. As I secretly watched him talking and laughing I became aware that, as opposed to feeling reviled by him as I expected, I was enjoying looking at him; the way his long hair curled at the collar of his white shirt, the way the light aught the bronze colour in it as he stood by the fire. I watched him drink; the way his lips opened just as the glass touched them, the quick lick of the lips after he had sipped. I wasn't sure if it was the wine but I was utterly hypnotised by him. When the people about him laughed and touched his arm I wished that I were in their place, that I might touch his arm and feel the muscles beneath his well cut jacket. I felt a blush creeping up to my cheeks and I looked back to my companions and tried to remember what they were saying. I looked over again at Mr Cullen; he was walking purposefully towards me!

I decided I would try to speak with him, to show him that I was not the silly, uncultured girl he no doubt thought that I was. Constance was asking him about art. He replied with a laconic drawl that art was useless. I was intrigued, surely he liked art? I remembered Bosie saying as much earlier in the evening. Turning to him I spoke boldly.

'Useless?' I asked, to my annoyance my voice shook a little when he looked at me with disinterest.

'Useless.' he repeated, 'art need not have any use. Beauty is its own use wouldn't you say Oscar?' With the last comment he turned his back as though to speak privately with Oscar and Bosie. Humiliated and excluded from the conversation, I felt my eyes prick with tears. Constance took my hand and led me to where Lady Alice stood talking to her brother Lord Arthur.

We were chatting quite amiably and Lady Alice was insisting that I accompany her to the musical recital she was giving later in the week. Lord Arthur seemed to be engrossed in something across the room, when I turned to see what could be so interesting I saw Mr. Cullen crossing the room to us. My heart beat loudly in my chest and, inside my gloves; my palms began to perspire in a most unladylike fashion.

He kissed Lady Alice's hand and made some comment which sounded quite improper. Lady Alice giggled, Lord Arthur looked at Mr. Cullen expectantly. What was I missing here? I wondered. There seemed to be an unspoken dialogue between them and I could not think what the subject might be. Mr Cullen continued to ignore Lord Arthur and myself, repeating his flattery of Lady Alice with redoubled vigour. Lord Arthur muttered something, it might have been a curse but I could not quite hear, and spun away on his heel causing some ladies nearby us to start after him, so rapid was his exit.

I turned back to Lady Alice and Mr. Cullen. He had his finger at her cheek and was tracing it slowly, suggestively down the front of her gown. The sight of his long pale finger smoothing over her skin made me feel hot and cold at the same time. My pulse beat loudly in my ears and I realised with a start that I was fervently wishing that it was my gown which Mr. Cullen was tracing with such intent. The revelation wrought upon me such a shock that, coupled with my dismay at Mr. Cullen's obvious disregard for my presence, I gasped aloud. His eyes flew to meet mine and I saw in them a spark of triumph. With horror I realised that this was all a show for me, to show me how little he respected my person, the small regard in which he held me. Tears starting once again in my eyes I fled the ballroom.

I was playing back the events of the evening and trying to comprehend the strange marriage of the uncomfortable heat Mr. Cullen elicited in my body with the confusing feeling of dismay at his actions when I heard the door open behind me. There was no time to hide and so I hunched down in the armchair by the fire and hoped that its wide back would hide me from whoever had just entered. I wanted no company for my sorrow and confusion. To my surprise the first voice that spoke was very familiar to me, it was Bosie's and he sounded furious.

'What do you think you're playing at Cullen?' my eyes opened wide with astonishment that Bosie was so angry and with his best friend too. What had Mr. Cullen done to make Bosie sound so murderous? His next words nearly made me gasp aloud and I bit down on my fingers to stifle the noise of my surprise. 'Why did you do that to Miss Swan?'

'I did nothing to Miss Swan,' Mr. Cullen's voice sounded wary and amused. He obviously wasn't used to being spoken to like this, 'now Lady Alice on the other hand.... ow!' He made a small cry at the end of his sentence. I wished for all the world I could see them and know what Bosie had done to make Mr Cullen cry out like that.

'Cullen, you're a fool man!' Bosie almost shouted this, his voice hissing to a whisper at the end.

'A fool?' Mr Cullen's voice was as confused as I, I tried to imagine his face, his thick eyebrows raised in surprise.

'Yes a fool,' Bosie's voice was calmer now and he sounded tired. 'You were trying to make Miss Swan hate you, weren't you Eddie?' I shifted in my seat and considered trying to peer behind me to try to see what was going on. Mr Cullen was _trying_ to make me hate him? But why would he do that? For a game? A dare? 'Why would you want her to hate you?' Bosie asked my question for me, his voice soft now. Mr Cullen mumbled something I couldn't make out, how I longed to be able to spy at their expressions but I dare not move. Horror crept over me as I imagined what might happen if they discovered my hiding here, listening to their private conversation. My horror was nothing in comparison to my shock at Bosie's next words however.

'Because you love her, don't' you Eddie? You want her and it scares you to death doesn't it?' Mr. Cullen started to speak and then stopped. Did they know I was here? Was this all part of Mr. Cullen's cruel plan to humiliate me? His actions had not been those of a man in love, I had no experience but I had read some novels of romance and even I knew as much.

'Eddie, you do. You want her don't you? This morning at Oscar's house you scared yourself didn't you?' My mind raced as I tried to play out this new slant on the morning. Had it been some other strong emotion, other than hatred, which had made Mr Cullen react in such a severe manner. The more I thought about it, thinking over every gesture, every glance the more I began to hope that this was true. I surprised myself by this hoping, was I in love with Mr Cullen? Did I want him as Bosie had described it? Was this the foundation of the strange lazy heat which crept over me as I had watched him all evening? I felt myself begin to blush just thinking of it.

'Maybe I should just go, Mr Cullen finally muttered, 'maybe Madam Chang's parlour might be a distraction. I need to stop thinking Bosie.'

'It happens to all of us Eddie, in the most unlikely places.' Bosie sounded relieved; perhaps he had thought that Mr. Cullen would have continued to protest.

They left together and I sat looking at the fire but not seeing the flames which danced in the grate. I had no time to consider all the possibilities of what I had just heard. The brandy I had gulped conjoined with the wine of the evening whirling in my brain and making it hard to think. One phrase rang out in my mind as I stood up, deciding that I must follow Mr. Cullen and confront him before my courage ran out.

'You love her, don't' you Eddie? You want her and it scares you to death doesn't it?'

I told Constance I felt ill and she kindly called me cab and fetched my shawl. Mr Cullen's hansom was just leaving the square and, not caring what the driver though about a young lady chasing after a man at night, I informed him that our destination was that of the cab ahead of us. It was dark and the gaslights became less numerous as we sped along in pursuit of Mr. Cullen.

We stopped on a dark street outside a house lit with red oriental lanterns flickering in the windows of the downstairs rooms. Mr Cullen was standing with one foot upon the doorstep and his mouth was open as he watched me clamber from the cab. My skirt caught on the step and I stumbled and nearly fell. He put out his hand to steady me and we looked at each other for a long moment. Then he frowned.

'What the hell are you up to?' he hissed at me, his tone so fierce that I gave a little cry and stepped backwards, he did not release his grip on my arm. I fought the urge to cry, tears welling in my eyes as I stammered out.

'I heard what Bosie said, in the library.' His eyes went wide and his face pale. He was trembling now and his grip on my arm became tighter.

'What?' he hissed.

'I heard what Bosie said, do you love me Mr. Cullen? Do you? Is that why you've made me feel so wretched?' I couldn't help it, at my last words the tears began to pour from my eyes. His expression softened a little but his grip on my arm was still enough to hurt. He didn't speak and I babbled on, 'I... think I love you Mr. Cullen.' My voice dropped to whisper on the last words. His eyes grew wider still and his eyebrows shot up. The hand that wasn't holding my arm combed through his hair causing it to stand up a little. It made him look younger. He seemed to make up his mind; he drew his face close to mine. My heart beat wildly in my chest, I thought I might faint and I could feel his breath upon my face. I closed my eyes.

'Go home,' he whispered, 'I'm a bad man.' I kept my eyes closed. I felt so humiliated, what else could I lose? I had already shown revealed myself and my darkest dreams to his mockery.

'I don't think you are.' I whispered with my eyes still closed. There was a moment's silence.

'Then I will show you how bad a man I am Miss Swan,' he snarled and he snatched my arm and dragged me with him into the dimly lit house.

_So, how IS he going to prove his badness??? Reviews make me feel nice!! *hint hint*_

_Thanks to Rin –Chan (hope school's not too bad), Wolfpup (hope you get some hotties at work), Meg (academia is for dummies), my Victorian pen pal Awesomesauce76 (Bollo says he's got a bad feeling about this) and Fiona ( love you sweetie)._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N I just need to warn you that here be lemons!!! Homosexuality and drug use!!! He DID say he was a bad man right? _

Miss Swan's POV

The inside of the house was in marvellous contrast to the exterior. Vivid silks hung from the wall and draped across the ceiling so that the hall I stood in resembled more a tent than an East End house of ill repute. For that was what it was dear reader, of that I now had no doubt. Young women lay around the place upon chaise longue and large cushions, soft lighting came from more paper lanterns which sat upon tables and gave the room by their light a dream like quality. The air was thick and sweet with a scent of which I was unfamiliar. You may feel some surprise at my willingness to enter such a place but Mr Cullen's grip was tight upon my arm and the brandy which I had quickly consumed in the Choughton's library (how long ago and far away that civilised place now felt to me) was burning its way through my body and I felt weak and powerless to resist. My head swam from the pungent smoke and the shocking sights which filled my gaze.

Bodies writhed in a room leading off from the narrow hallway where we stood. I averted my eyes looking to Mr Cullen, hoping he might relent and take me outside but this seemed a dim hope. He was looking up the stairs where a slim Oriental woman was descending. She wore a scarlet silken robe which would have been hardly respectable even as a dressing gown to any decent lady. As she descended a pale leg slipped from the folds of this garment and was revealed almost to her thighs. I stared in wonder; having only seen myself undressed I had nothing with which to compare this sight and yet it aroused in me a strange and tingling feeling. She reached the bottom step and her face came into the pool of soft light from a blue lantern swinging gently from the ceiling. Her face was oval, her lips brightly rouged and her eyes lined with some dark cosmetic of which I was unfamiliar. These features stood out on her face which was so heavily powdered it appeared to be almost white. This colour ended abruptly upon her neck and I could see her skin was light brown down into the deep neckline of her loose gown. The effect was startling; she had an air of grace I had not seen in the respectable ladies of my acquaintance. She opened her mouth to speak and the contrast could not have been more surprising.

'Mr Cullen, nice to 'ave you back sir,' she chuckled with a broad cockney accent such as I had heard the barrow boys and common market people speaking on my journey into town. She peered behind Edward, she was small in height barely taller than a child of fifteen, and took in my appearance with a sweeping glance from my feet to my face. This she appraised frankly with no more manners than I would have expected from a cat. She raised a shapely eyebrow. 'Brought your own sport sir? Will you not be needing my services then?'

'I will need your services Madam Chang,' Mr. Cullen's voice was still angry and I wished I had not followed him to this place. But what were my options now? If I were to shake off his hand and run into the street, what then? I had not notion of where I was in this foreign city and I had no doubt that a young woman by herself on these streets would not fare well. What else could I do? I looked imploringly at Mr. Cullen, he ignored me completely yet his grip on my arm tightened. 'I will need a pipe and Lola.' He began up the stairs dragging me with him in his wake. The oriental woman laughed, a cruel sound, and clapped her hands loudly. From the fog curling at the top of the stairs appeared another young oriental woman; her face was made up but with much less severity than her employer's. She wore a short black silken robe which ended just at the juncture of her legs. Even though I had known what kind of place I was in the effect of her dress startled me considerably. I wished fervently that I was in a dream, that I might wake to Constance's loving hands stroking my head, that this might all be a terrible nightmare brought on by the rich food and brandy at the Choughton's ball. But at the same time as I was wishing with all my heart there was inside me a wicked and dark place that knew this was no dream and was eager for what lay ahead.

Mr Cullen followed the girl into a room which lay to the left of the stairs landing. It was dark with only a flickering red lamp in the corner which threw frightening shadows onto the silk clad walls. He pushed me down onto a scattering of cushions and nodded to the oriental girl, presumably Lola. She nodded once and took a shining silver chain from about her neck. On it dangled a silver key. With this she locked the room from the inside and dropped the key back into the confines of her robe. I was now a prisoner.

I looked about the room as Mr. Cullen sat beside me and Lola took a position opposite us. There was not much to see except for a low bed in the centre of the room. It seemed much broader than any bed I had ever seen and this fact brought a shudder to me. Mr Cullen had not looked at me once since he had dragged me into this house. Now he turned to look at me and I saw a moment's hesitation in his eyes. I wanted to beg him to take me from this dreadful place but something terrible made the words stick in my throat. Some sinful, wicked part of me wanted to know what would happen in this place. I blush to say these words but they are true. I was a captive but a willing one.

Mr Cullen looked away from me to the girl and nodded again. From a long wooden box beside her she brought out a long smoking pipe. Its length was intricately carved as was the box from which it came. I watched her thin fingers as she stuffed a dark substance into the bowl of the pipe and moved the red lamp between us. She bent low over the lamp, her breasts falling free from the robe and the silver chain swinging as she lit the substance in the pipe. My eyes were wide with fascination both at her body and her actions. I had no idea what was in the pipe but I knew it was something iniquitous that I should avoid.

Her face took on a luxuriant laziness as I watched her inhale deeply on the pipe, her scarlet lips caressing the smooth wood obscenely. Mr Cullen seemed transfixed too and it wasn't until she passed the pipe to him that he seemed to stir from his torpor. He took the pipe from her fingers and sucked at the stem while Lola's fingers trailed down the front of his shirt and rested on the bulge in his trousers. I tried to look away but I felt as though some ghastly spell had been wrought upon me and I could not tear my eyes away from her stroking fingers. Mr Cullen exhaled a long stream of smoke from his mouth and lay back against the cushions so that Lola's fingers might have more freedom to continue their ministrations. This carried on for what seemed like an age. Lola stroking and toying with Mr Cullen's swelling manhood (there was no doubt as to what this was even for an innocent like myself and I could hardly bring myself to think the word), me staring with wide eyes at the reaction of Mr. Cullen's body to the attention of Lola's hands and Mr. Cullen watching us both, his amber eyes heavily lidded and a small smile playing at his lips. Then he passed the pipe to me.

I say he passed it, that is rather he placed it at my lips and held my head. I tried to pull away but his grip on the back of my head was strong and so I resolved not to breathe in. Whatever was in that pipe it was not something in which I wished to indulge, seeing its effects on my companions. Mr Cullen nodded to Lola who, not ceasing to nip and rub Mr. Cullen's body, used her other hand to pinch my nostrils together painfully. Instantly I breathed in through my mouth and the thick cloying smoke wove its way inside my body. The taste was woody and sweet and not unpleasant but the effect was staggering. It seemed the smoke conjoined with the brandy in my veins to bring about a hazy and dream like quality to the room and its occupants. The swirls of smoke in the red light fascinated me beyond imagining, I gazed at them for what felt like hours. Then my attention was drawn to where Lola was lying between Mr. Cullen's legs, her head over his swollen member. He was propped up on his elbows and she was leaning upon hers as she rubbed her face on his trousers like a cat. Mr Cullen began to make a soft sound in his throat, for a moment I thought it might actually be a purr and I began to giggle and then he looked at me as he slowly moved his hips up and down, pushing Lola's face further against the fabric of his trousers.

'See Miss Swan,' his voice was low and I felt as though I could see the soft indentations it made upon the air as his words came to me. 'I am a very bad man.' I felt a smile breaking across my face, it felt as though my face would split wide open with the force of emotion flowing through my body and across the smoke to settle onto Mr. Cullen's softly moving body.

'Yes, I see that now,' my words seemed eminently sensible at the time but now I realise that the terrible drug in the pipe (for what else could it be but a drug, to so addle my senses and hold hostage my virtue) had succeeded in claiming me as a willing prisoner in that room.

Mr Cullen undid his trousers, his hands making swirling patterns in the smoke. Lola grasped his manhood in both of her hands. At the sight of him hard and glistening at the tip my body began to grow warm. I felt as though I had a terrible itch somewhere upon my body but I could not fathom where it was and so relieve myself from its tickling. Lola was now licking the tip of Mr. Cullen's manhood and he was watching me carefully. His amber eyes seemed to glow in the dark and he looked like a fallen angel as his body moved in time with Lola's insistent mouth. I was struck by his beauty, the unholy splendour of him as he sprawled back and his body stretched in ecstasy.

Lola's careful tonguing seemed to stretch out the minutes into hours and years. Each lap of her soft mouth upon him seemed as long as a season and they moved with languorous slowness together. The tingling in my body was settling on a place between my legs and I longed to move my heavy, cumbersome skirts and touch myself to bring myself some freedom from the warmth I felt there.

Lola rose over Mr. Cullen's prone form and swept the short robe from her shoulders. Her body in the red light seemed that of a beautiful demon and her slitted eyes rolled back into her head as she lowered herself onto Mr. Cullen's length. He gasped and moved his hips up to meet her. My eyes were fixed as though by some infernal spell to the place where their bodies were joined. Lola's body was hairless and I could see the slipping and plunging of their intimate parts. Everything seemed to be moving at a timeless pace. I watched as Mr. Cullen's' hands moved up Lola's body to cup her breasts, her head thrown back as he pinched at her and caressed her roughly. It was though I was a ghost, a mere shadow and that these two had no knowledge of my presence at all. It seemed perfectly reasonable of me to lift my skirt discreetly and rub my hand across my mound where the heat was building like a slow fire which threatened to consume me.

So caught in my own pleasures I did not notice at first that Mr. Cullen, still moving under Lola's body in what seemed to be an exotic dance, had turned his head and was looking directly at me. My fingers worked at my body feverishly and I began to imagine that I was Lola, that it was my breasts which Mr. Cullen was touching and kneading with such fervour. Indeed as I thought it I could feel his hands upon me although I could see them clearly on Lola's body. It was as though she and I were one, one universal woman being pleasured by Mr. Cullen. My fingers slipped inside myself and I felt Mr. Cullen there, pushing and creating such a delightful friction that I gasped out. My breath seemed to hang on the air, my eyes met with Mr. Cullen's and he gave a shuddering cry, thrusting up into Lola and holding her hips with his hands.

I felt the tension building in my body and welcomed the cool hand which joined my own in my caresses. I lay back and looked down and saw that Lola was touching me gently beneath my skirts. Mr Cullen was lying back on the cushions but his manhood was once again swollen with desire. He reached over and lifted my skirts up so that my legs and quim were exposed. I felt nothing at the experience only the mounting heat and pressure between my legs. Lola knelt between my knees and dipped her mouth to lick at me gently. The feeling was intense and overwhelming, fire ran through my veins and I sank back on the cushions. There was a groaning in the air, it sounded like angels sighing and I realised with a distant thought that this noise was coming from my own lips. Lola's tongue circled my flesh and lapped gently at the small nub of pleasure it found there. The fire grew until I felt a great conflagration possessing my soul. Lola's mouth stopped for an instant and yet it seemed like a lifetime until she touched me again. I opened my eyes and saw Mr Cullen kneeling behind Lola, entering her from behind. He held her hips and I felt his movements communicated to me by way of Lola's lithe tongue. She moaned against my delicate flesh and I quivered under her. At each thrust into Lola, Mr. Cullen gave a sigh, which caused Lola to whisper at my skin which in turn caused me to arch beneath her tongue. It was as though we were one glorious being joined in an exquisite moment of pleasure. I looked into Mr. Cullen's eyes and he into mine. I realised that we were united through Lola, that she was our angel, acting between us a conduit for our pleasure. I felt the power building within me and I moved against Lola's tongue. My heat spread out over the room and caught alight in Mr. Cullen who began to push himself more deeply still into Lola. Lola moaned into me and I felt myself tipping over a bright abyss, all sensation centred on that small space between my legs, freeing and spiralling until I became more than my body, until I joined with the air. At that point too Mr. Cullen and Lola cried out and I looked down in wonder as their faces communicated that same joy which I was experiencing with them.

I awoke to the sunshine streaming through the window of my bedroom in Tithe St. I lay for a moment, considering the strange dream I had experienced. It was not until I endeavoured to sit up in bed that I realised this had not been a dream at all.

Ok phew!! So, what did you think? What will happen now? Is Miss Swan damned by her actions at Madam Chang's? Will she flee London and Mr Cullen? Or will she stay and sample more forbidden fruit??? Send me a review and I might tell you!! *wink*


	6. Chapter 6

Mr Cullen's POV

I walked the rest of the way home from Oscar's house thanking my lucky stars for a friend like Bosie. As she led the woozy Miss Swan into the house Constance had said how Bosie had explained how I'd taken Miss Swan out of the Choughton's party because she'd been feeling ill. He'd also explained that I'd probably take her for a walk to clear her head from the champagne she'd been drinking. Constance was so kind as she thanked me for looking after her guest that I almost felt guilty, almost.

A crisp morning was beginning to dawn, tingeing the rooftops with pink and gold and I congratulated myself on a job well done. Although I could not, for certain at this point, catalogue the events of the night before I felt certain that Miss Swan might well put her evening's activities down to drink and a bad dream. I'd seen it happen with opium before, I myself often needed a few hours distance to recall events entirely, but I was in no doubt that, conscious of her actions or not, she wouldn't be thinking kindly of me anymore. Her concern for her virtue and reputation would guarantee her silence and I was a free man again. I strode along whistling, gaining a smile from the man snuffing out the gaslights on my street. As I took the marble stairs to my front door I tried to suppress the thought that my happiness was based on an emotion other than that of relief.

Victor greeted me at the door with a cup of tea and the morning post. I flicked through the envelopes finding nothing of interest apart from an invitation from Arthur Choughton to attend a weekend at the family's country estate. Leaving it on the mantelpiece as something to consider I ran upstairs and had Victor draw me a bath. As a lay in the sandalwood scented water I smoked a cigar and found myself reliving the adventures of the evening before.

*********************

I confess my resolve was shaken when I saw the fright on Miss Swan's pretty face but I was determined to disabuse her of any romantic notions she may harbour about me. I am no Mr Darcy and the girl was to find that out the hard way. Following me to Madam Chang's was an action I had not expected her to take but I would use the situation to my advantage.

I held Miss Swan's arm tightly and waited for Madam Chang to arrive. My determination was faltering when, I was washed with relief, she glided down the stairs like the demon she was. Her heavily painted face showed no surprise as she registered Miss Swan behind me. A swift backward glance told me that the young lady was finding it difficult to take in the sights inside Madam Chang's establishment. Good, hopefully this wouldn't take too long. I'd get her in a room, shock the living daylights out of her and pack her off in a cab to Oscar's, never to show her face around me again. The anger which thrummed through me was not aimed at Miss Swan; I was angry with myself; angry for the feelings which this young woman aroused in me. I would destroy any budding relationship this instant.

I informed Madam Chang of my requirements for the evening. I knew that Lola was young, nubile and ripe for sport of the kind I had in mind. The pipe was an afterthought but, as my father used to say when I was young, if a job is worth doing, it's worth doing thoroughly. Dragging the reluctant Miss Swan after me without a backward glance, I took the stairs at my customary pace and Lola appeared from a room on the landing. Her appearance was even more ravishing than usual and the short kimono she wore showed off her fine legs and I began to get a feel for the evening ahead and determined that, not only would I put Miss Swan off me for life, I would enjoy myself into the bargain.

We entered Lola's room. The air was thick with sweet, opium fog. It drifted over the lamps and caressed the bed with its smoky fingers. I saw Miss Swan's eyes widen when she took in that particular piece of furniture. Before she could react further (I didn't want her screams to alert the police) I pushed her roughly onto some floor cushions and gestured for Lola to lock the door. Bending to the lock she gave me a full view of her round, soft arse. I felt my body stiffen with desire.

Something about this reaction and the proximity of Miss Swan gave me reason to pause. Could I really do this to her? Gentle reader, I have done far worse in my time but there was something so sweet, so kind about this young woman that even I hesitated a little. But how could I go back now? How could I extricate myself from this situation and remain intact, as a man, as a man with a reputation. Between my standing amongst men and Miss Swan's, it was clear who was going to win. I nodded to Lola and she brought out the opium pipe.

I watched with mounting desire as her nimble fingers fill the pipe with the black drug. I had seen her do this many times, indeed I had done it myself on several occasions, but I never ceased to be enthralled with the ritual of the poppy. She bent to the lantern, lighting the pipe with ease. Her black silk robe fell open and her smooth, pert breasts were exposed. There was something so lascivious, so wanton about the ease with which she displayed herself to me. I allowed my eyes to roam her body freely, ignoring the nagging voice which reminded me of Miss Swan's presence, her fear, her innocence.

Lola was passing me the pipe, her eyes heavy with the drug she had inhaled. I sucked on the thin stem and the smoke passed into my body, filling me with a sweet languor which hovered in the air about me and made my blood sing as it spun through my veins. The room took on a dreamlike quality, soft and filled with possibilities. The outside world, its ethics, its actions melted away on the sweet grey mist. We were cocooned in this place, this time. Lola and Miss Swan and I, separate from the world outside. My anger, my denial and my plan to disgust Miss Swan melted on the opium smoke shimmering in the air.

My blood was humming through my body, filling me with a delicious thrill of desire. Lola's hands were stroking at my trousers where my cock strained against the fabric. Her fingers strummed over me becoming more firm and determined in their touches as she felt my body respond to her movements. I could almost see the opium stringing its heavy way between us two, linking us in a haze of lust. Miss Swan was staring at me, at my hard length and I smiled to show her how happy I was that she was sharing this with us. This feeling of benevolence towards Miss Swan grew, seeming to harden and swell just as my body was hardening and swelling under Lola's hands. But there was something wrong, Miss Swan didn't look happy. She looked scared and uncomfortable, for a moment my brain struggled with the conflict of these feelings. The sharp contrast of them with my own lazy desire seemed jarring and wrong. Of course, how stupid of me. I passed the pipe to Miss Swan but, instead of the acceptance I had expected, she pursed her lips and shook her head. I would have to help her.

I held her head in one hand, marvelling at the slightness of her build. I gestured for Lola to help Miss Swan to inhale from the pipe by closing her nostrils so that she would breathe the smoke in through her mouth. Miss Swan took a deep breath and I watched as the opium filtered into her body and she relaxed against the cushions. Lola was rubbing her face along my trousers where my cock was taut and straining and Miss Swan's eyes followed the movement as though she was hypnotised. She giggled slightly. My hips began to move of their own volition, thrusting up into Lola's face, the friction combining with the singing in my veins to swell into a heavenly longing. Miss Swan's face was open and happy, I had not seen her so free, so much herself with no fetters and without the confines of civilisation. It was as though I was seeing her for the very first time.

I was suddenly gripped by the desire to be honest with Miss Swan. I wanted her to know me. It was unbearable to share this sweet and moving experience without complete honesty.

"See Miss Swan," I confessed still moving my body in time with Lola's rubbing, "I am a very bad man." A transformation came over Miss Swan's face. In that moment she was an angel, a goddess. Her smile was honest and beautiful. All barriers between us dropped away, the thought of never seeing her again was unbearable and unthinkable

"Yes, I see that now," her voice was divine, heavenly. The smoke rippled at her words as though it too was stirred with desire for her, as I was.

Lola, caught in the mood which swirled around us, looked up at me, her eyes expectant. I quickly unfastened my trousers and continued to hold Miss Swan's gaze while Lola pleasured me with her mouth. Miss Swan smiled and it seemed as though it were her mouth, wet and hot which gently caressed my swollen member. My breath came faster in my throat as the thought of Miss Swan's full red lips smoothing over my hard length blossomed in my mind. Lola flung off her robe and positioned herself above me, ready to take me inside her.

It seemed as though my body and mind were two separate entities. That my body was occupied with the tight, slippery velvet of Lola's body as we plunged and bucked together, while my mind was locked in an equally passionate embrace with Miss Swan. I could not distinguish the two as my passion mounted and Lola began to gasp and move with more abandon. I reached up to cup Lola's breasts and it seemed that along with her oriental skin I could perceive Miss Swan's soft, pale globes as I pinched and rubbed at the hard nipples. I looked from Lola's face, thrown back in ecstasy, the perspiration sheening on her brow to Miss Swan's face, flushed and panting. Miss Swan's hand was underneath her skirts and I could tell by the motion of her wrist that she was touching herself. This inflamed my desire further and I began to thrust in time with her movements as though it was my hard cock pushing at her womanhood, opening and possessing her. This thought consumed me and I felt my release building as I looked from one woman to the other, unable to distinguish between them. Cunny and hands were interchangeable and indistinct. I came, hard, lights flickering in the room with the force of my orgasm.

I tried to steady my breathing, fighting the wave of fear which always comes with the poppy. There was a whimpering sound, like a child or a puppy. The sound was adorable at first but then it became darker and filled with lust. I opened my eyes to see Lola crouched between Miss Swan's legs, her hands stretched under her skirts. Miss Swan was writhing and moaning and I was gripped with the eroticism of the scene. I had to see more, I had to see Miss Swan as she had seen me, open and exposed. I pushed back her skirts until I could see her quim. The lamplight flickered on her body, on Lola's fingers slicked with Miss Swan's desire. Her breast rose and fell as she gasped in air. Lola bent her mouth between Miss Swan's legs, gently parting the curls with her fingers. Miss Swan shuddered and sighed as Lola lapped at her, slowly at first and then faster and with more force.

The sight was almost unbearable, I was hard again and I grabbed Lola's hips and pushed myself inside her, burying my cock to the hilt in her tight cunny. This movement pushed her against Miss Swan and the young lady gave such a sigh of delight that I pushed again and again, each time with more force and each time I was rewarded with that heavenly sound.

It felt like some form of divine communion, as though we were one creature with one body, alight with desire. Miss Swan's eyes were wide open and I fell into those chocolate pools until I felt I would never return. I felt myself open to her gaze, all pretence fallen away, all lies and deception past. Together we fell into the freefall of release.

I do not know how long we lay together, tangled limbs which could not discern one from the other. I only know that as I lifted Miss Swan into the waiting cab I kissed her gently on the cheek.

*****************

My bath was cold. The water seemed to cling unpleasantly around my body. I sat staring straight ahead, my cigar cold in my hand and my brain slowly processing three thoughts. One, however I might protest, I was in irrevocably and unconditionally in love with Miss Swan. Two, that I had to find a way to achieve again that sensual perfection which I had experienced so keenly last night. And three, my only physical contact with Miss Swan had been that chaste kiss.

Reader, what was I to do?

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	7. Chapter 7

Miss Swan's POV

My heart jumped into my throat when Constance knocked carefully on my bedroom door. Her kind face took in my white, tear stained cheeks and her brow furrowed with concern.

"Oh my dear," she rushed to sit on the bed beside me and took my face in her hands. "You must be feeling dreadful!" The moment strung out between us as I struggled to make sense of her words, did she know what had happened? What I had done? I searched desperately but I found no clear answer. My mind was jumbled and disturbed. The flood of emotion was too much to bear and I burst into fresh tears, hiding my face in my hands in shame.

"Isabella, I had no idea you were quite so ill!" she exclaimed, stroking my hair with a soothing motion. "When Bosie called to tell you had been taken ill I had thought it was the excitement of the ball. If I had known your illness was so serious I would have called for the doctor as soon as Mr Cullen brought you home..." I raised my head, my red rimmed eyes felt sore and tired.

"Mr. Cullen?" I whispered, fearing my voice would betray the excitement I felt at his name. Constance nodded.

"He was so kind," she smiled, "he insisted on carrying you to bed himself." Her face fell suddenly and my heart jumped guiltily. "Oh but I have said to Lord Arthur that we will attend his country house gathering this weekend. I shall have to cancel, I hope he won't mind, but if you are so ill...how disappointing. I was hoping to see Mr Cullen to thank him for his kind demeanour towards you Isabella," she looked at me seriously, "it's not his usual manner with young ladies; I was hoping that your sweet influence had wrought a change in him."

My mind moved quickly, he had carried me to bed. He had stood in this very room! Indistinct flashes of the previous evening skipped through my mind, surely they were a dream? I wished that I could have some time alone to think, to remember. The importance of the situation weighed upon me. Without really comprehending, without really knowing what had happened to me between the ball and this morning, I knew with absolute certainty that my reaction in this matter would be a changing point in my life. Constance coughed politely and I tried to focus on my mind on what she had been saying. Realising that a chance to see Mr. Cullen again might be slipping by me, I searched frantically for a way to persuade Constance. I sat up in bed, pulling the bedclothes to my neck.

"Constance, I feel so much better this morning. I'm sure if I rest this morning I will be quite well enough to travel to Lord Arthur's if you wish to go, I would hate to keep you from your friends." Constance patted my hand and smiled.

"I'll send Libby up with some tea in a moment. Let us see how you are later in the day. There is no need to be hasty, Lord Arthur would not be expecting us until this evening and the drive is not long."

She left me alone but my mind was crowded with thoughts. My body felt different, aching and heavy; I felt as though a great change had overtaken me but I was at a loss to discern what that change might be? In my visions there was a woman, dark eyed and raven haired, her skin was supple and smooth in the dim light. Who was she? Rather than clear memory of the night I had instead overwhelming feelings from the evening. I could remember Mr. Cullen's face, in the same dim light he was beautiful, his face less guarded and wary than I had ever seen him. With this picture came flooding warmth in my body. It was as though, in my dream, there was a golden thread binding me to Mr. Cullen. He felt so familiar to me now, so close to me that it was as though I had known him for many years. My heart had begun to race at the sound of his name, I was confused but I knew if I was to solve the puzzle then I would have to see him again. In the pit of my stomach I felt the shiver of excitement.

Libby entered the room and startled me from my reverie. She smiled shyly as she put down the tea things. I had spent the morning thinking about the strange recollections of my missing evening and I had decided upon a course to prove to Constance that I was now quite well. Deep inside me there was a conviction that I must see Mr. Cullen again.

"Libby?" my voice sounded shaky and I realised I would have to be more convincing if my plan was to work. Libby looked up and dipped a curtsey. "Come here Libby, I have a question to ask you." The girl came closer to the bed, bringing the cup and saucer with her. I took the tea and sipped, looking at her over the rim of the cup. "Do you have any rouge Libby?" Her eyes went wide at the question and then she nodded once, her eyes looking at her shoes. "May I borrow some?" Libby's expression was even more incredulous and I felt I had to explain a little more. "I want to convince Mrs. Wilde that I am quite well enough to accept Lord Arthur's invitation. It seems such a shame that she should miss out because of my ill health. If I wasn't so pale..." Libby smiled, now she understood.

"I'll go and fetch it Miss, "she smiled and rushed from the room.

And so it was that I arrived at Lord Arthur's country house, dressed in my best grey travelling dress and wearing rouge, like an actress, for the first time.

It seemed as though the perfumed cream I had applied in my room was burning on my cheeks as Lord Arthur greeted us on the wide marble steps leading to the grand front of the house. I had the rest of Libby's rouge in my bag and I decided that I would not wear anymore and would give it back to her as soon as I arrived back at Tithe St. Somehow the merest sheen of the cosmetic on my cheeks made me feel sullied and this feeling in turn brought me back to my strange emotions concerning the night after Lord Arthur's ball. I was at a loss to understand the confusing tides which seemed to pull about me.

While the maid drew a bath I picked out the blue dress for the evening's dinner. It was fitted closely to the body and was more grown up than anything I would have ever picked for myself but Constance has insisted it would be just right for me. The corset which I was to wear beneath it was tighter and more severe than I had been used to but the beauty of the dress made me determined to endure its rigours. I understood from Constance and Oscar that Lord Arthur hosted these parties often and the entertainments would run through until we returned to London in three days. The bubbling excitement which had been threatening to spill out of me all day was reaching a crescendo as the hour for dinner approached. Try as I might I could only find one possible explanation for this curious sensation. I was excited to see Mr. Cullen again. I thought it strange that I could not remember anything after leaving the Choughton's town house in the cab; I could recall quite clearly the conversation I had overheard between Bosie and Mr. Cullen. At this thought the bubbling increased. This clarity of mind made the subsequent confusion and vague recollection which followed those clear memories so much more distressing. Had I really been so ill that I had lost my memory? The image of Mr. Cullen's face, flushed with a terrible kind of joy flickered in my mind and I felt the bubbles rise.

So, dear reader you cannot help but keenly feel my disappointment when I entered the elegant lounge and scanned the room for the one person in the world whom I longed with all my heart to see, to find him absent.

The silver grey walls were painted with the same peonies which adorned the Wilde's white room; the soft lamps making them seem to dance as though caressed by a summer breeze. Someone was softly playing a piano and the music merged with the sophisticated conversation and laughter. For a moment I felt my own awkwardness, my youth and innocence as I took in the confident adults grouped in twos and threes around the lounge. Lady Alice was at the piano and as I caught her eye she waved gaily and the music ended. Everyone stopped and applauded quietly; Lady Alice smiled graciously and made her way towards me, her diamonds glittering in the light from the fire.

"Isabella, you look divine!" She clasped her hands over mine dramatically. In the short time I had known her it seemed she had marked me as a firm friend. I smiled in reply, slightly awed by her house, her family's obvious wealth and the ease with which she accepted all this as perfectly normal life. "The blue really is very becoming on you! Arthur won't be able to keep his eyes off you!" She giggled and I glanced to where her brother stood by the piano, nursing a drink in his hand, it seemed he was arguing with Bosie. Alice and I watched as he gestured and leaned forward so that no one might catch his words. "I wonder what that is about?" whispered Alice. I shrugged and was about to speak when a butler opened the door across the room and announced two more guests. All eyes swept the room as the couple strode confidently into the crowd. Their manner was that of those who know that their arrival signals the beginning of the party.

"Mr. Edward Cullen and Lady Laura Ashton." The butler closed the door behind him, leaving the couple standing accepting their audiences stares with haughty pride.

My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure Alice would hear it. I thought I might faint and I struggled to keep my breath in my tight corset. I was beginning to regret my choice of dress. Mr Cullen had not seen me but the sight of his strong profile, thick eyebrows raised at a comment Bosie was making, took my breath away quite literally. He was wearing a dark grey suit with a silken waistcoat and cravat tie in a slightly paler grey. The colour contrasted with his auburn hair which seemed more unruly than usual and his amber eyes scanned the crowd like a torch. He bent to whisper in the ear of the woman whom he was accompanying. The gesture was as intimate, as personal, as if he had kissed her on the mouth in full sight of us all. My fluttering heart beat once and seemed to die in my chest. Tears pricked my eyes and bitter disappointment curdled in my belly.

The woman was turning to laugh; her voice sparkled to me across the room. Her dark hair was fastened in an intricate pattern and fixed with tiny diamonds. Her dress was as ebony as her hair and cut daringly low on the bodice. Her waist was nipped in tightly and I felt envy slip her knife between my ribs and twist it cruelly there. The woman was still turning, her laugh loud and confident. The room seemed to slow down, time hanging still, everyone moving as though fixed in syrup, as she turned towards me. I knew her. I knew that face, although it seemed to me that she was not laughing when I saw her last. Was she crying? No, that wasn't it, she was happy but a painful, hard happiness which etched itself upon her face with a fierce beauty. How did I know her? When had I met such a woman? Her movement ended, she looked me full in the face and licked her lips with a red, wicked tongue. I knew her instantly. This was Lola. This was Lola and the last time I had seen her had been the night before. The night before when she had licked me with that red tongue and brought me to an ecstasy of sensation. The whole evening crashed down upon me and a flurry of images assaulted my mind. Lola writhing and moaning with desire. The feel of her soft cheek against my leg as she breathed upon me. The overwhelming sweetness of the tide which swept over me. Mr Cullen's face, his eyes locked with mine and his mouth open and panting my name as he found his release.

My hear banged erratically, my breathing short and gasping. Blackness flooded into my vision and I fainted.

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	8. Chapter 8

Mr Cullen's POV

Bosie's reaction wasn't what I had expected. He merely nodded and agreed that taking Laura to Arthur's party was the best course of action.

"Of course, dear boy, "he drawled lighting a Turkish cigarette which he had taken from his silver case, "if that was the original plan then of course you must escort Laura to Arthur's weekend bash." He drew on the cigarette and flicked the ash into the fireplace and looked back to me as if the matter was most simple. I fought to keep up with his logic.

"But if Miss Swan is there..." I tried to make sense of the terrible mess I now found myself in." Then she will... Laura...she must recognise her from Madam Chang's." I ended, exasperated by his calm assessment of the situation. I hadn't told Bosie what had happened at Madam Chang's, that would be stretching even his weak morals and, after all she was Oscar's guest, but he did know that Miss Swan had followed me there and that she had gone inside. I had led him to believe, without telling an outright untruth, that I had persuaded Miss Swan of the error of her ways and had escorted her home safely. He hadn't asked about my feelings for Miss Swan and I hadn't offered up the information.

"If you've already asked Laura, then you must take her Eddie, don't be a cad." He sipped his drink and looked at me over the brim of the glass. "Unless of course you don't want Miss Swan to think that you are having a liaison with the lovely Laura?" he raised an eyebrow, mocking me. I sighed, it was no use trying to outwit Bosie, he knew me too well. I began pacing in front of the fire ticking off on my fingers as I spoke.

"One, I don't think I have completely exorcised my feelings for Miss Swan." At this Bosie laughed uproariously, smacking his hand against his thigh in amusement at my exasperated tone. I carried on, "two, if she recognises Laura and says the wrong thing then Laura's game will be up for good and you know how angry that will make her." He nodded sagely, Laura's temper was not to be trifled with, we knew from experience.

"Laura's game is bound to be up sometime, Eddie. She just can't keep up this sordid double life of hers and hope to never be exposed." He laughed again at his choice of words and I smiled too. Despite my anguish Bosie was still excellent company. "Madam Chang's has become more and more popular with the type of fellows one meets out in polite society and she is bound to come across one sooner or later." He carried on laughing and this time I joined him, his irreverence was infectious.

"True, Bosie but I'd rather that I wasn't the one to expose her, if you don't mind." He nodded, serious again. Leaning forward in his chair he clasped his hands together and knitted his brows. I knew him well enough to know he was coming up with a scheme. Not for the first time I thanked my lucky stars for a friend such as he.

"If I can waylay Miss Swan before she sees Laura, I might be able to come up with some speech which will convince her that she is not the person she saw at Madam Chang's. I can be damned persuasive when the situation calls for it." This was very true; I sat down in the opposite chair, my clasped hands mirroring Bosie's posture. "Then you can speak to her and explain how you'd already invited Laura and that you couldn't let her down, but that you would love to spend some more time getting to know Miss Swan." He looked at me shrewdly, I tried hard not to think of Miss Swan, her soft white thighs or the perfect 'o' of her mouth as she came on Laura's tongue. As if he saw my thoughts Bosie's lips turned up slightly at the edges. I raised my brows in an expression of innocence, Bosie laughed and went on. "Right, get dressed Eddie and have Victor pack your clothes for seduction! Let the weekend commence, we pick up Laura at six!"

"Is there any other way to pack for the weekend?" I laughed as I left the room to get ready for the trip to Lord Arthur's.

********************

As Bosie waited in the hansom outside Lord Ashton's grand town house I stood in the elegant hallway waiting for Laura. Lord Ashton had made some small talk and inquired after my health and then had gone to finish the game of cards, the participants of which were creating rowdy laughter in the other room. Since Lady Ashton had died over ten years ago Lord Ashton had retreated to his bachelor days of drinking and gambling, leaving his only child to fend for herself. The family fortune was vast and had allowed both Laura and her father to spend and damn the consequences, and they had done so with remarkable abandon.

A portrait of Lady Ashton as a young woman looked down at me from the wall. It was easy to see where Laura's beauty came from, the same dark hair and sparkling eyes laughed down from the picture. By all accounts some of Laura's other traits had been inherited from her mother who had been a great court beauty and, it was rumoured, the mistress of a prominent member of the royal family. I looked up at the painting and wondered what the young woman with the mischievous smile would have thought of her daughter's 'hobby'.

The rustle of Laura's skirts as she descended the stairs brought me from my reverie. She looked stunning. The black dress was cut daringly low over her soft bosom, the exposed flesh made more enticing by the severe shade of the fabric. The family diamonds, or at least some of them, glittered about her person and pinned her raven hair into a complicated design. I marvelled, not for the first time, at the transformation she underwent to become Lola, the expensive bangtail at Madam Chang's. The straight, long hair and short kimono of Madam Chang's was gone and the young Lady Ashton was every inch the aristocratic English lady. Her smile was radiant.

"Edward!" she exclaimed as her tiny feet, clad in delicately buttoned boots, skipped down the stairs. "How delightful it is to see you again!" A wicked twinkle in her eye was accompanied by a wink that would have put even Bosie to shame. I laughed and kissed the cheek she offered, aware that this was very risqué in the hallway of Lord Ashton's house. The startling contrast between this little indiscretion and the other things I had done with, to, Lola made the wickedness even sweeter.

"You look divine Laura, as you always do." She took my arm and her maid brought two large trunks to the door. "Packing for the month?" She laughed up into my face as we emerged onto the steps of the house to see Bosie impatiently smoking a cigarette out of the window of the hansom.

"My dear Eddie," she giggled, "I am always prepared. For anything!"

**************

The journey was tremendous fun. With a flask of brandy in one's hand and in the company of Laura and Bosie, one could sit back and enjoy the fireworks. Laura was almost a match for Bosie, their humour and wit so sharp that they could almost be siblings. Bosie had once dubbed her 'my female self' to which she had replied that she had had far more cocks inside her than he would ever hope to have. Bosie almost spat his brandy out with laughter. So you can imagine, dear reader, that it seemed almost the twinkle of an eye before we were drawing up the long drive of Lord Arthur's country house.

The house was large, even by aristocratic standards. It was said that there was a room for every day of the year. Many of them had not been used for centuries. The house was a jumble of styles, going back to the original Tudor building which was given to Lord Arthur's ancestor by Queen Elizabeth the first. The summer I had spent with Bosie and Lord Arthur had been an idyll. We had lounged on the ancient roof tiles (we had climbed from an upstairs window as young men will) and drunk our way through Arthur's copious wine cellar. Lord Arthur and I had ended up in his bed, one of many following evenings I had cause to regret ever since. Not because of the sex, Ye Gods, the man had a cock like a stallion and he knew how to use it, but his clingy whining later was worse than a woman. Bosie, blind drunk, had slept on the roof. I remembered clambering out in the morning, wild with panic that he might have fallen to his death. The image of Lord Queensbury, Bosie's father, had flashed into my mind; I did not want to be the one to give him any bad news. The man was a maniac, even his children thought so.

These thoughts were broken when the carriage stopped and we prepared to disembark. I reminded Bosie of our exploits on the roof and as we laughed, a little giddy from the brandy we had been drinking on the journey, Lady Laura asked us to elaborate on the tale. We were regaling her with the story, Bosie embellishing wildly and I denying wildly also. The butler's hand was on the handle of the door as Lady Laura turned to us both and whispered.

"So there will be three people in the room tonight who have watched Eddie come!" Bosie snorted with laughter and then looked suspiciously at me.

"Three?" he mouthed as we swept into the room, the butler announcing our names in a loud voice.

It was too late to answer his question. All eyes swivelled towards us and I felt the usual ripple of jealousy and admiration that was the norm when I escorted Laura to a party. She was still laughing at Bosie's surprise as she turned and scanned the room and I knew she was assessing the crowd for competition and the evening's prey.

All others faded into the background as my eyes sought out the figure of the woman that, I now realised, I had been impatient to see since I had left her sleeping peacefully in her bed the morning before. Was it only a few hours ago that I had seen her face open with desire and longing? There she was, wearing the most beautiful cobalt dress which highlighted her deliciously curved figure. Her eyes swept from mine, Laura turned to face us both, Miss Swan's mouth opened in a silent cry and she crumpled to the floor. In a second Bosie was rushing to her side attempting to limit the damage.

How will Bosie smooth things over? Will he smooth things over now he knows Rogueward has lied? Will Laura be denounced as the expensive floozy, Lola, of Madam Chang's brothel for the discerning gentlemen? Stay with us dear reader and all shall be revealed!

No lemons this time but next time there'll be enough lemons for us all to have Pimms!

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Thanks for the reviews so far, you too too kind!!


	9. Chapter 9

Miss Swan's POV

Tiny sparkles of light swan in front of my eyes, pin pricks in the darkness of unconsciousness. Gradually they grew and spread until I could see again. The first thing I saw was Bosie's face leaning over me, concern in his furrowed brow. He was speaking in a low voice and it took me a moment to take in what he was saying.

"Isabella, you must listen to me!" his voice was an urgent whisper; I opened my mouth to speak, to reassure him I had heard him but no sound came out. He nodded, understanding my still weak state. "That woman is Lady Laura Ashton, and yes, you've seen her before, doing something very different." His face puckered like he was going to laugh. "Edward had to bring her along; he couldn't revoke his invitation in the light of your....evening." The last word was almost a giggle. I smiled too, I didn't really understand but he was so genuine and concerned it was hard to resist his laughter. LADY Laura? But wasn't she the... woman at that place, my mind refused to form the words but once again flashed back to that night, Lola's tongue. I felt myself begin to blush. Bosie was still speaking, with difficulty I re focussed on his words. "Edward feels for you Isabella, I know he does. I just think he doesn't know how to deal with the situation." These words went through me and penetrated my soul. The ballroom and the fluster my fainting had created faded to the background and the words hung on the air as if they were etched in gold between us. He loved me? Truly?

Bosie saw my question before I asked it and he nodded, sitting back on his heels, sighing and shaking his head at the madness of the situation. It was then I realised I was lying on a chaise longue in what must be Lord Arthur's library, Bosie was keeling beside me and the only light was the flickering of the fire, through the open door the murmur and laughter of the party sounded loud in the dark panelled room. I tried to sit up but my heart began racing again and the tiny sparkles appeared before my eyes. Bosie pushed me back against the cushions gently.

"Just breathe Isabella, that dress looks divine but I don't think there's room in it for all your exertions!" he smiled kindly as I tried to steady my breathing. "You can go and find Edward in a moment. He'll be occupied with being introduced anyway." I sat back and let my mind play with the wonderful daydream that Mr Cullen, Edward, loved me. What would I say to him once I was sufficiently able to breathe? Would he kiss me? My blood pounded dangerously in my head and I fought back the idea and tried to think about less inflammatory things. But it was no use. My mind went back to him from every thought. What had happened to me that night? It was as though some creature; some beast had been awakened within me. I had never considered my body's desires before but now the slightest thought made my body burn with longing. It shocked and frightened me, would I ever be able to control myself again? Was this the forfeit I would pay for tasting such forbidden fruit? My mind had not strayed far all day from those dark deeds and I was beginning to feel a rising panic at the frequency at which my mind was drawn to that part of me that throbbed and itched for fulfilment. Was I going mad? And, if madness was my lot, a more pressing question was, dear reader did I care?

I sat up, taking Bosie's arm to rise stiffly in the tightly corseted dress. I spent a moment, smoothing my skirts and touching my hair to see if my faint had undone the intricate curls or dislodged the vivid blue feather which curled back from my temple.

"You look beautiful, Isabella, "Bosie said kindly as he steered me towards the door.

The ballroom was busy now; more guests had arrived in the time I had been in the library. I saw Constance look over at me, worry in her expression but I smiled and waved gaily and her relief was apparent in her wide returning smile. Nearby Lord Arthur was arguing loudly with someone I didn't recognise, a young man with blonde hair and effeminate gestures. Lord Arthur was swaying and I could see the spittle on the corner of his mouth as he ranted. His swaying body and slurring words seemed to indicate that he had been a little over zealous with his drinking. People were politely ignoring him, the emotion and the alcohol rendering him invisible to the English aristocracy and their sense of propriety.

My eyes scanned the room for Mr Cullen but I found no one there who forced my pulse to the dangerous racing which his mere outline was wont to propel me. Instead, gliding to me with infinite grace was Lady Laura Ashton. She stopped, nearer to me than I would have expected a stranger to stand. With a rush of blood which beat a pulse at the juncture of my legs I realised that this woman was no stranger to me at all. We were intimates in the strongest sense of the word.

"Isabella, how lovely to see you again, you look most ravishing." Her wicked white teeth glinted in a wide smile and then she giggled into her hand. The gesture was so girlish and disarming that I found myself giggling too at the ridiculous situation we found ourselves in. Even written in one of the raciest novels it would seem fantastical and outlandish. Our laughter grew and soon we were both gasping for air and clutching each other's arms in a friendly manner. I gathered myself together enough to speak.

"Lady Laura, I really don't know what to say! Which is the real you?" I gasped out, unsure how to word my query and not wanting to offend her.

"I'm afraid my dear that they are both the real me!" she replied, her laughter only evident in her smile now. "I do find Lady Laura's life rather dull sometimes and so I endeavour to lighten the ennui a little with some... acting." Bosie arrived, passing me a glass of champagne as he joined our little group.

"Now I know you ladies are well acquainted, "he grinned, "but I do think that Isabella has someone she should seek out." He pointed to some French doors which lead out onto the terrace. "I think I saw him go out there a moment ago." He guided my arm gently and propelled me to the doors.

It was chilly as I approached the doors and I shivered in my lace wrap. My feet seemed unsteady as I stepped out into the moonlit night and I reminded myself that I should be careful of the champagne, having had four glasses in quick succession this evening. My heart was racing in my chest as I anticipated seeing Mr. Cullen, his back towards me as he silently contemplated the garden. I imagined him thinking about me, wondering how he could speak to me, what he would say. I was just rehearsing a moving scene, where I would stop his endearing, stammering out of his love for me with a kiss, when I saw him.

He was standing, as I had envisaged, with his back towards me. He appeared to be hunched over and I could see one of his hands on the stone balustrade which surrounded the terrace. He seemed to be pushing away from the marble, his fingers flexed against the cold white stone. He didn't hear my approach and I fancied that his urgent whispers were a rehearsal of his planned revealing of his feelings for me. My feet made hardly a sound as I stepped behind him, meaning to look into his face and surprise him. Instead it was I who had the surprise, and it was an unpleasant one. On his knees before Mr Cullen, his fingers bold in their task of unfastening his trousers, was Lord Arthur Choughton! The bulge in Mr. Cullen's trousers was a testament to the assertion that Lord Arthur had not merely stumbled into that position.

Both Mr. Cullen and Lord Choughton looked up in the same instant. Mr Cullen reached to grab Lord Arthur's head, whether to push him away or pull him closer I do not know, for at that moment. Tears pricking my eyes I fled. From the terrace came a strangled cry of desire.

I slowed my pace as I entered the ballroom, not wishing to attract attention but once I had escaped the crowd and found myself on the lonely staircase to my room, I wept afresh and ran with an urgency born out of a fear of discovery. Once inside I threw myself, face down, on the bed, the pillows catching my tears as they poured down my face, I hugged the coverlet to me, my body shaking with the paroxysms of grief as the scene I had just witnessed replayed though my mind. Had it all been an elaborate joke to humiliate me? I wondered. I couldn't bring myself to believe that Bosie would wish to hurt me in so cruel and cold a manner but I had to confess that I had no reason to believe that Mr. Cullen would not lie to Bosie in order to accomplish his wicked plan. At this my sobs grew louder and I beat the pillow with my fist, angry with myself for being such an easy dupe. Now I was ruined and humiliated. I had fallen at the very first temptation. I tried to deny the tingling feeling in my body at the recollection of the night with Mr. Cullen and Lady Laura, but I knew it was there. Worse still, something in the pose of lord Arthur, on his knees about do perform an act which I dared not imagine, evoked something of that tickling and heat in my person which I had experienced only once before. I was trying to reconcile my guilt and anger with this dreadful surge of desire when I heard the door open to my room.

I felt someone sit on the bed beside me and at first, my heart both soared with hope and froze cold with anger; I thought it might be Mr. Cullen himself. But the soft fingers which caressed my neck were not those of a man and soon the soothing voice, whispering gentle, comforting words assured me that Constance, having seen my plight as no other would have done, had come to aid me in my distress.

The stroking of her fingers on the skin exposed by my coiffure elicited a tingling sensation which, added to the feeling of her breath on my neck as she bent to whisper to me, began to fan the heat I was experiencing beneath my skirts. I was too far gone with confusion and champagne to question this response and I turned onto my back so that I could look into Constance's face.

Her soft brown eyes were wide as she bent her head to mine. Almost as though in a dream I felt her lips brush gently against mine. Their touch sent a thrill of longing through my body and I reached up to pull her more closely into the kiss. Her lips crushed against me and I felt the beast, so newly wakened only the night before, rise within me as her wet tongue probed between my lips. I sucked upon it, relishing the gasping breaths which my actions seemed to pull from Constance's body. I sucked, imagining Lord Choughton crouched before Mr. Cullen in the darkness his mouth similarly employed with Mr Cullen's person as my own with Constance's wet tongue. Her body was full over mine and I felt her push her hips against me.

Her hands drew up to cover my breasts and I felt the flame of lust driving us both on as she rubbed at my hard nipples, moving them against the stiff bones of my corset and creating delicious friction. My hands, as though drawn by an unrelenting force, rose to crush her own hard buds between my fingertips, nipping her more fiercely than the gentle caresses she was lavishing upon my own. Her breathing was stertorous now and she writhed above me, her body desperate for release.

She raised herself on one elbow and her hands lifted up my skirts and fluttered over the place between my legs where the tormenting sensation had begun to burn and delight. Over the thin fabric of my bloomers her nimble fingers danced, eliciting from me moans and sighs of pleasure. It was then I heard him outside the door.

Mr Cullen's POV

What damned misfortune dogged my attempts at love! I had gone to get some air, to regroup and gather my thoughts to prepare for what I would say when I addressed Miss Swan when Lord Arthur appeared in the door way. He was roaring drunk and very angry.

"God damn it Eddie, why won't you answer my letters?" his words were slurred and, as he lurched towards me I smelt the whiskey on his breath. His eyes were wild as he suddenly grabbed my lapels. I pushed him back and he staggered as though he would fall. Without thinking, I put out a hand to steady him and he grasped it with his hot sweaty fingers. "Didn't we have fun last summer Eddie? Didn't you enjoy your little Arty?" His voice wheedled and his hand snaked down the front of my waistcoat and cupped my cock with a tight squeeze. Unwillingly I felt myself harden under his touch. I pushed him away, not caring to help him when he tottered backwards against the balustrade.

"Art, I had great fun last summer, but that's all it was, fun. And fun soon becomes dull when there is no variety." I tried to keep my tone light so as not anger him further, the last thing I wanted this weekend was to be throwing punches with my host. He stepped towards me and I looked at him coldly. His expression became crafty and his voice wheedling.

"I can show you variety Eddie, if that's what you want?" his reached out for me again and began to caress me, sniggering at the reaction he was getting from my body. "Somebody still finds me interesting. "He leered looking down suggestively at the obvious erection he had provoked with his fondling. I pushed his shoulders away from me and he fell backwards onto the stone paving of the terrace. Instead of dissuading him and dampening his ardour this seemed only to increase his determination to have me. He crawled on his hands and knees towards me, grabbing the back of my knees as I backed away, pinning me to the spot. He ran his face up the length of my leg, caressing my swollen member with his cheek and lips. Thus hobbled by his hands I shuffled painfully backwards. There was a noise behind me and I turned as much as I was able to see Miss Swan staring at me with such a look of horror that I thought I might be turned to stone in the instant. With all my strength I grabbed Arthur's hair and pulled, he gave a cry of pain and his hold on my legs lessened briefly. I wrenched myself free of Arthur's grasp and fell backwards.

Not waiting to attend to his Lordship I ran after Miss Swan and saw her leaving the ballroom. In a moment Bosie was at my side grabbing my arm. I pulled him along for a few steps, watching in anguish as Constance looked after Miss Swan and then followed her to the door, her face a mask of concern.

"Good god man! What happened?" Bosie hissed to me, trying to cover my obvious alarm with a laugh and a wave to a fellow guest.

"Arthur, the bloody fool, chose just that moment to try to rekindle old desires!" I hissed back still trying to move towards the door. "Where is Miss Swan?" I asked.

"Her room?" he shrugged, "I believe that is where young ladies go to weep when their hopes of love have been dashed by watching a peer of the realm sucking their paramour's cock in the moonlight!" His eyebrows waggled in comedy but I was in no mood for his joking. I grabbed his arm.

"Which room is she in?" I was at the door and opening it before he could speak but I heard his words.

"The last room on the blue corridor, in the west wing."

I took the stairs two at a time, hoping that I could catch Miss Swan before she reached her room. Once she was inside I would be vexed in my chance to speak with her, I could hardly burst upon her bedchamber could I? The thought brought with it a delicious imagining. She would be crying, I would kiss her passionately and declare my feelings for her. She would fall into my arms, my kisses would shower her face, her bosom... so involved in the scene was I that I found myself outside her door with my hand on the handle before I arrested myself and tried to think what I could do with this dreadful situation. The corridor was deserted and in such a part of the house that I would be undisturbed should I enter. The moonlight was silvering the paintings and the varnished floor and I was deciding on my next best move when I heard the noise.

At first I thought Miss Swan was in pain and my grip on the door handle tightened. Then came the soft sigh at the end of the plaintive moan and I realised what I was hearing. My cock twitched in response and the half hardness I had achieved since escaping Lord Arthur's clutches was banished to be replaced by a hardness which pounded with my pulse. The sound came again, more insistent and urgent in its tone. There was a rustle of clothing and a panting. My hand was at my trousers and quite unconsciously I rubbed at my swelling desire which pushed against my fingers.

As my body responded my mind raced. What was she doing? Was someone in there with her? But who? The gentle squeaking of the bed springs flashed to my mind a vision of Miss Swan lying on her bed, her skirts raised up and her wet quim shuddering under her own touch brought more heat to my longing and I rubbed more furiously at my cock, feeling the fabric of my trousers nip at the tender flesh. The sighing and moaning increased in volume, as though Miss Swan did not care whether she was overheard. My feverish imagination had her now, legs splayed on the bed, fingers dipping into her wetness as she imagined me between her thighs. I moaned quietly and unfasten the buttons which confined and pinched my swollen member. My relief as my hard length sprang free elicited another small moan from my lips and I leaned back against the wall rubbing my smooth skin until my desire moistened my fingers and I was reaching for release.

Miss Swan's POV

I knew it was him. The gentle moan I had heard outside the door was akin to the sounds which I had heard from him the night before as he forced himself deep between Lola's wide spread legs. A tremor of desire ran through me at the thought that he might have overheard Constance and myself, so engrossed in our pleasure as we were. Was he outside now? Was he listening, imagining what was happening to me which could make me groan and shudder with such longing? Was he touching himself, wishing it were my hands on his engorged and throbbing manhood? The thought spurred me on and I rubbed myself more furiously against Constance's seeking fingers. She redoubled her efforts, pausing only to run her hand beneath the fabric of my underwear, to dip them into my wetness. She moaned into my mouth as she encountered the evidence of my desire. She ground her hips against me gaining pleasure from the friction of our bodies. Listening to her sighs and the, now obvious, groaning from outside the room I imagined Constance's fingers were instead the wide girth of Mr. Cullen's member as he thrust inside me. I felt at delicious wave of heat envelope me and carry me over into a free fall of release. Mr. Cullen's voice grew hoarse as called out in pleasure. In my ear Constance cried my name as she too, reached her climax.

I DID promise you lemons didn't I? Did that satisfy gentle reader? Please leave me a review and let me know what you are thinking... within reason! 

Awesomesauce76, this is ALL your fault you bad girl!! Your latest chapter of 'Blood and Lust' left me with no recourse but to get some lemons down myself! Thanks 

Happy Birthday Jrh927!! As a founding chapter Roguette I hope you liked your Rogueward!

Come and find us on the Twilighted thread (details in my profile)


	10. Chapter 10

Mr Cullen's POV

Panting I leaned back against the wall, reaching for my kerchief to wipe the evidence of my arousal from my hand. I was shielded from the corridor by the expanse of draping curtain which swathed the window next to me. There was some soft murmuring from Miss Swan's room, she wasn't alone! The door opened gently and a person stole quietly down the passage without a backwards glance. My mouth fell open in a gape and my mind stammered with the startling information that the person who had elicited those noises from Miss Swan, the person who had groaned and moaned with such fervour was none other than Mrs Wilde!

It took me a moment to comprehend this news and I was overwhelmed with a strange mixture of jealousy, desire and disappointment. The first of my emotions was easy to explain. I recoiled at the idea of anyone, save myself, touching Miss Swan in the intimate way in which Constance had obviously just been doing. It was one thing to witness her in the Sapphic embraces of Lola, such a situation had been engineered by myself and I had found the sight both pleasurable and stimulating, but to see her enjoying the embraces of another, even a woman, made me burn with anger. The second of my emotions was purely natural in a man. Being witness to, even overhearing, the passion of the woman one desires is intoxicating and it was only to be expected that what I had just heard had aroused me quite completely. But it was the disappointment felt which cut me most keenly.

Still leaning in the passage, my trousers now buttoned and my clothing presentable, I probed my soul for the meaning of this bitter knife which twisted in my gut. I was disappointed with the change I had wrought upon miss swan. The innocence and purity which had spurred me to make her mine was now utterly smashed and, though I was certain I still desired her, it was myself at whom the brunt of that disappointment was aimed. I had shown her a skewed version of the world, of romance, and the fault for her recent actions lay squarely at my door. How could I have brought her to this position where the attentions of another woman would elicit such a response from her? How dare I say I loved her when I had forced her to this juncture? There was only one course of action open to me it was now clear. I would stay away from miss swan and hope that she could regain some of her former morals with the absence of my evil influence. Even though the decision made me tremble I must leave her alone to find her path to the future she deserved as a good wife and a gentle mother.

I took a deep breath and, feeling the heavy symbolise in my gesture, I walked away from her bedchamber door determining to leave Lord Arthur's house at once.

The surprises of the night were not over as I realised when I reached my chamber to find Laura and Bosie reclining on the bed drinking brandy. The lights had been dimmed and the firelight glinted off their teeth as they greeted me with knowing grins.

"Ah ha! The wanderer returns!" cried Bosie leaping from the bed and passing me a glass. I downed the fiery liquid and handed it back to him to be refilled. His face lost its glee and he passed the now full glass back to me with concern in his expression. Laura moved to the edge of the bed, her heels banging the coverlet as she swung her legs to and fro.

"What happened Eddie?" she asked, never one to mince her words. I shrugged and took off my jacket, unbuttoning my waistcoat and removing my shoes. I lay down in front of the fire, my back leaning on the armchair in which Bosie was now perched. His hand rubbed through my hair and I lay my head back, glad of the affection and care I felt in his touch. I sighed, my breath blowing out of me leaving me empty and hollow.

"I've ruined it all. "Even to me my voice sounded drained and I looked into Laura's face and saw that, she too, had heard my tone. She leapt lightly down from the bed and knelt at my side taking my hand in her small soft fingers.

"What do you mean?" her voice was gentle and she stroked my palm lightly. I sighed again, uncertain where to start in the sordid tale, acutely aware that we three usually gathered to share conquests and escapades and, occasionally, our beds. The atmosphere in the room had none of the usual vigour associated with our friendship. How could I explain to these fellow adventurers the remorse I felt at my actions, how wrong I had been in what I had done to miss swan? How could I hope that they would understand? But as I looked into Laura's face and felt Bosie's hands in my hair I knew I could tell them anything, anything but the identity of the woman who had shared that moment of passion with miss swan. I felt flat and cold and I had no desire to reveal that Mrs Wilde had behaved in any way improperly. It was bad enough to think I had undone miss swan with my actions without the added burden that I may have ruined dear Oscar's marriage too.

"I can't see Miss Swan anymore. " I saw Laura's eyes go wide and I knew from the pause in his stroking that Bosie would be sharing her expression. I went on, "I have to go, now, tonight. I'm afraid my idle toying with her affections has led her astray more than I could have imagined." Laura sipped her brandy but her eyes never left my face and I knew she was waiting for me to continue. "Tonight I discovered that she has taken a path which can only lead to her disgrace and immorality." I saw Laura about to protest, no doubt to tell me that a life of immorality was not necessarily a bad thing, maybe to make a joke but as I spoke I knew that my words rang with truth. "No, Laura, she isn't like us. She was never meant to be in a world where there are people like you, like Madam Chang, like me." I hadn't realised that tears were now flowing freely down my cheeks until Laura's kind fingers swept them away. I covered my face with my hands, weeping freely. It was a long moment until Laura spoke, her voice softer than I had heard it ever before.

"Are you sure?" I knew what she was asking me, she was asking me if I was sure I had to leave, was I sure all this was my fault, was I sure that Miss Swan's only chance of moral survival was my absence from her company? Dejected, I nodded in reply to all of her questions. She nodded too.

"You can't go now. If people heard gossip of your argument with Art then they might assume you were leaving because of that and we don't want them thinking you'd run from something like that. Wouldn't do your hard won reputation any good at all." Bosie's voice was light and I knew he was trying to lift my spirits. "Not that you ARE running away Eddie, I didn't mean that." He added quickly and the mood again was sombre. The fire crackled happily in the grate and here I was in my room with two of the lustiest and handsome friends I had and yet there was something dark and grey about us all. It was as though the fun had been sucked out of life, like a fruit left to wither and pucker.

Laura ran her hand along my leg, teasing her fingers higher and higher but I shook my head and she smiled a sad smile and put them once again in my hand. We sat for a while in silence, sipping the brandy and looking into the fire. Quietly Bosie and Laura got up and went to bed. I sat there feeling numb from the gaping hole that would be my existence without Miss Swan.

Miss Swan's POV

After some sweet, tender kisses and wishing of good night Constance retired to her own room, first checking her hair and apparel in the mirror for anything that might give away her evening's pursuits. I lay and stared up at the ornately carved posts of the bed and wondered about what had just occurred. As much as there was a part of me, I was sure this was the voice of the innocent girl who had taken the boat to England, which looked upon my actions with horror there was also another voice speaking to me in the quiet of the room. This voice seemed older and happier and was much more persuasive. Why, the voice argued, if Lady Laura Ashton, aristocracy no less, could behave with such abandon why might not I do just the same? Where was the harm in what had happened between Constance and I? Neither of us had been coerced into the experience and I was not so naive as not to have heard the rumours surrounding the Wilde's marriage. Constance and I had behaved as our instincts had seen fit to show us and we were both happier for it. I was grateful to Mr Cullen for showing me that life could be so enjoyable and I must admit a frisson of pleasure ran through me at the thought that I might soon re-enact my recent exertions with himself in Constance's place.

It was with such warming and happy thoughts I undressed and went to bed. I slept soundly and woke early feeling full of the joys of the new life I had discovered.

On entering the breakfast room I was not initially disappointed by the absence of Mr. Cullen. In truth I had not completely decided how I should behave in his presence and was grateful for the time to gather my thoughts. However I must admit to some disappointment when, as I finished my final cup of tea there was still no sign of him nor Bosie or Lady Laura. I rose to leave the table, Constance watching my exit and smiling when I turned to ask her what I should wear for the walk we had planned for the afternoon. There had been no tension between us as I had feared there might be, in fact she seemed to be far happier and at ease than I had seen her since my arrival.

As I passed into the marble floored hallway servants hurried here and there, dragging boxes and carrying cases. The doors were open and a cold country breeze blew ruffling the flowers and the drapes. Guests were obviously leaving but I could not fathom who would be going so soon, the weekend was barely begun. My questions were answered as running feet sounded on the marble stairs behind me. I turned to see who was in such a hurry and whirled straight into the tall frame of Mr. Cullen. He put out his hands to steady me and I looked up into his face. His expression was stern and he mumbled an apology. His hands left my arms as though he had been burnt. He quickly rushed out of the door and into the carriage which I could now see waiting in the driveway. Unable to comprehend events as quickly as they were happening, my mouth fell open as Bosie dashed passed me, catching my arm as he nearly ran down the stairs. I watched him leap nimbly into the carriage. Lady Laura followed but, as she caught sight of me standing mouth agape looking out in the direction of the gentlemen's' escape, for so it seemed to be, she stopped and touched my arm gently. I looked at her, my face full of questions, pain and disappointment and I saw that she understood my crowding emotions. She kissed me softly on the cheek and as she did so she whispered in my ear.

"I'll explain as much as I can when I see you next dear Isabella. Try not to worry; I will do my best to help you." With those words she too fled out into the bright morning sunshine and in a flurry of hooves and wheels they were gone.

The rest of the weekend passed in a slow monotony. Try as I might to enjoy the company, the beautiful countryside, the company the sparkle and excitement that had been promised was gone.

We returned to Tithe St and my existence resumed the former whirl of life in the capital of one of the greatest countries in the world. Constance and I visited dress shops and bought new gowns. We took the children on outings and laughed at their antics together. We ate dinner and drank fine wine with Oscar's friends. Mr Stoker came and read from his new novel, the gaslight flickering as he wove his tale of supernatural horror. But nothing was right. Neither Constance nor I spoke of the evening we had shared at Lord Choughton's house neither did we see or hear of Bosie, Lady Laura or, much to my disappointment, Mr. Cullen.

Poor Miss Swan eh? How will this get sorted out? Leave me a review and all will be revealed my gentle readers!

Thank you for your kindness and reviews so far on this journey. Please come and find Rogueward on the Twilighted site and leave us a note there.

Thanks must go to the original Roguette line up of awesomesauce76 and jrh927. Really girls, I couldn't do it without you!


	11. Chapter 11

Lady Laura Ashton's POV

It did not seem to me that, even though he professed to have done the right thing, Eddie was entirely happy with his life since we had left Arty's house that morning. He and Bosie had gambled and drank themselves into the gutter on most evenings since our departure. His wallet was lighter but his mood was not. It wasn't as though Bosie and I had not attempted to lift his spirits. We'd tried all of our old tricks to rouse him to his former mood but all our efforts were in vain. He had no interest in whoring and not even the prospect of an evening with Lola and the opium pipe could produce so much of a flicker of desire in his morose mood.

I had argued with him about his decision to abjure the presence of Miss Swan but it had been to no avail. He was determined that this course of action was the only one which might ultimately result in the lady in question's happiness.

"But women have carnal feeling just as men do!" I had shouted in exasperation at his unwillingness to even consider my arguments. "Who are you to decide what is best for her Eddie? Would you decide so for me?" I had called him arrogant and superior and selfish and he had not even raised his voice to deny me.

And so it was with such a fruitless quest in our hearts that Bosie and I met at my house in town to discuss what we might do to rescue our dearest friend from the doldrums in which he seemed so determined to drown.

"He's like a different man!" exclaimed Bosie as he swallowed the last of the fifth glass of champagne of the evening. "A boring, miserable one at that! Do you know I tried to get him out of the house last evening, offered him the night with the delectable young Thomas and he refused? Said he was 'staying in with a book'! Have you ever heard the like, Laura? I'm being driven to distraction with the worry! We HAVE to do something!"

I nodded, refilling my own glass and passing the bottle to Bosie. My father was out gambling and the house was ours. It was on nights such as these the lavish house felt bigger and emptier than I had ever remembered in my youth. When my mother had been alive there had been dances, balls and parties. With her passing all this had passed too. It was at this point that the idea came to me.

"Bosie, "I cried excitedly, "Let's have a party, here! We can have snake charmers and whores and music and dancing!" Bosie stood, picking up my theme as he carried on my thoughts.

"Masks! We can wear masks and costumes! I shall be Alexander the Great and you can be Cleopatra! How marvellous an idea Laura! This will bring Eddie from his melancholy!"

The nest morning I called my carriage and requested the driver to take me directly to Tithe St. I found Miss Swan alone in the house, the Wilde's were visiting friends for the day and she was at home passing the time in writing letters to her family. The moment I entered the white drawing room and saw her face, an abject and sad mirror of Edward's own sombre expression, I knew that I was right in my attempt to bring these two together. Isabella's face brightened a little when the maid announced my name and I hugged her to me, noticing the pallor her skin seemed to have taken since I last saw her. I could tell from her expression that she hoped for news of Edward and so I spoke up candidly, as is my wont, and without hesitation.

"I'm here to invite you to a party Isabella. Edward will be there and I think it's about time we put our heads together and found out what has been the problem with the two of you since Arty's weekend." I smiled frankly, letting her know that this was no trick or ruse, I could see from the wariness in her eyes that she had suspected as much when I had first arrived. I waved her to the chair by the fire as though this was my own house. She sat numbly twisting her fingers nervously. "What happened after the party Isabella?" I tried to sound kind but, in truth, I was so curious about her answer that my tone may have sounded harsher than I had intended. She looked down at her shoes and spoke in a quiet voice.

"I... stumbled on Lord Arthur and Mr. Cullen, "her voice broke and I realised that she was embarrassed to speak of what she had seen. This much of the evening I already knew from Bosie.

"Yes, he was trying to... encourage Mr. Cullen to rekindle their relationship." I stated bluntly. She looked up at me suddenly and I saw her smile as my euphemistic phrase.

"Yes, I saw him trying to rekindle..." at this she gave a chuckle. I giggled too and soon we were both laughing and clutching each other and it was as though the long weeks of our absence from each other had passed in a moment.

"But after that?" I insisted," what happened when Eddie came to explain?" Isabella blushed furiously and I held her hand in one of my own and tilted her chin to face me with the other.

"He heard... he heard ..." she paused and took a deep breath, "he heard Constance and I kindling our own passion." The words shot out like an arrow, so fast and muddled that it was a moment before their meaning could settle in my mind. My eyes must have opened wide and my expression must have been one of such extreme shock that Isabella began to laugh again. Her hand covering her mouth as she giggled in her nervous, giddy state.

I had never understood it when my friends had said that the truth had 'dawned ' upon them but, as I stood in the Wilde's drawing room looking at a giggling Isabella, it truly dawned upon me why Eddie had been so horrified and so determined to run away. Miss Swan had scared him, scared the rogue about town, Edward Cullen. She had taken his licentiousness, his wantonness and 'badness' and made it her own! I couldn't believe it! I had thought her nice enough before but now I was filled with admiration for this fellow female adventurer! I clapped her on the arm and laughed with her.

"Oh God, this is too amusing! Poor Eddie, what must he have been imagining? No wonder he's convinced he's led you astray!" Her face grew serious.

"Is that what he thinks?" she asked in whisper, "is that why he's ... avoiding me?" Her demeanour became sombre once more. I nodded urgently, a plan forming in my mind.

"Isabella, Bosie and I are holding a party! It's to cheer Eddie up; everyone's going to come in costume. Masks and the like. You have to come! It's the only way we can convince Eddie that he isn't responsible for your moral downfall! "Her eyes grew at this and a wide smile brightened her face. "I think we can deck you out in something suitably alluring don't you? How about Salome?" she nodded, only too happy I think to be guided by me in how to win back Eddie's affections.

For the rest of the afternoon we discussed our costumes and I left with promises to return the next day in order to purchase the necessary weapons for our planned assault on Edward's self enforced sainthood. As the carriage bore me home I congratulated myself on my clever brain and the wonderful plan which would achieve the happiness of both my oldest and newest dear friends.

So, the party comes next! Will a disguised Miss Swan succeed in seducing Rogueward? Can he resist Lady Laura's clever scheming? Do we want him to? 

Leave me a review here and, if you are so kind, pop to the Twilighted site and leave us one there too!

Thank you to my gentle readers, the Roguettes. I'd love to have you all at Bosie and Laura's party. Who would you come as? (So to speak) as usual a 'huzzah' goes out to the encouragement and immoral support of my partners in crime awesomesauce76 and jrh927. Love you ladies!


	12. Chapter 12

Miss Swan's POV

I was giving the final touches to my costume when Constance came into my room. Her shy smile grew wide as she took in the daring swathes of peacock blue silk, the sparkling sequins and the feathers adorning my person.

"I'm sorry, I came looking for Isabella, but I can see she is not here. Can you help me find her O exotic princess?" she swept a low bow and stifled a pretty giggle with her hand. I laughed too, relieved that she was not too outraged at my outfit for the evening. I had been worrying about it all day.

Ever since Lady Laura's servant had brought it over this morning it had sat in a black box on my bed, teasing me mercilessly with its ribbons and glitter. Was it going to be too much? Or too little? I had been almost too afraid to look. When I had peeked, I was been pleased with the colour and pleased too that Laura's sharp eye had noticed that blue was my favourite shade. I also noticed that I would have to go without a corset for the costume to look authentic and this was the first thing that stood to remind me of my nefarious intentions for the evening ahead. I had some difficulty deciding which piece of the outfit draped over which part of my body but now I thought I had it just right. The sparkles and the feathers left just enough of my pale skin on show to transform me into a true exotic dancer but covered just enough of me to keep me decent. In the box were a small palette of coloured powders and a note from Laura explaining that these were for my eyes, it would help to conceal my identity together with the mask which was also enclosed. I was just adding some swirls of vivid blue and green to my eyes when Constance made her entrance.

"Just think, "she said settling down next to me on the long stool which faced the dressing mirror, "only two weeks ago you were too shy to wear powder." I looked quickly to her, not sure if she was teasing me or making a comment on my recent behaviour. I needn't have worried; her eyes were crinkled with a genuine smile.

"Do you think it's all too much?" I asked raising my hand to remove a feather from my hair, I had decided I should wear my hair unpinned and the dark waves fell over my shoulders. Constance stopped my hand in its movement and held it in her own for a moment.

"Not at all. You will be masked and that's the fun of it. No one will know who you are... unless you speak of course!" I frowned in confusion, speak? Why shouldn't I speak? "Your accent! It will give you away instantly" Constance laughed again as she brushed the hair back from my shoulder.

"Of course, "I nodded understanding. "I shall be a mute Salome."

"Shall I help you fix the rest of these feathers and sparkles?" Constance stood and began fastening the paste diamonds into my hair with her quick fingers. Her mouth was pursed in concentration and I busied myself with the rest of my eye colour and was just picking up the small pot of rouge I had borrowed from Libby in order to dab a little on my lips when she spoke again.

"Isabella?" her voice seemed to frame a question and so I looked up into the mirror, she was looking back at me in the glass, her face serious.

"Mm?" I murmured applying the rouge to my lips with my fingertip.

"I wanted to speak to you about the night at Lord Choughton's... I... I don't want you to think I..." she sighed in frustration, her hands falling to her sides, her eyes wide and frank. "I'm sorry I..." I turned to face her and held her hands in mine.

"There is nothing to apologise for Constance. You have been nothing to me but a true friend and sister who has comforted and cared for me throughout my visit to your home. Please do not apologise for anything." I kissed one of her hands, noticing the red stain my lips left upon the white fingers. I rubbed them with my hand. Constance let out a breath.

"Oh thank goodness. I have been wondering what to say, if I should say anything at all, ever since we came back but I couldn't..." she ended sighing again and I smiled up at her. "I'm so glad you came to London, Isabella. " I turned back to the mirror and Constance once again picked up the paste gems and began placing them in my hair. "There," she stood back to admire her work. "You look ravishing! Is that not one of Mr Cullen's words?" she giggled. Finished with my toilette I picked up the mask of peacock feathers and fastened it across my brow and into my hair. Constance gasped behind me and my eyes flicked to hers in the mirror. Her mouth was open and her eyes betrayed the surprise she felt at my transformation.

I looked at myself in the mirror and I confess, look though I might, I could not see myself there. Instead there sat before me an exotic and striking woman. My dark hair fell over my shoulders glittering and twinkling in the gas light. The eyes of the peacock feather mask seemed to merge with my own and the effect was one of a marble statue of an eastern goddess. This goddess had full, red lips which pouted voluptuously, her skin was milky white and contrasted sharply with the vivid colours of the fabric which clung and draped over her body. The folds of her robe accentuated her breasts and her narrow waist, the soft material making it plain that my usual undergarments were in absence. I felt strangely nude and yet completely hidden all at once. It was as though my new, secret self, so soon emerged from her cocoon of respectability was finally stepping out, her butterfly wings gloriously on show.

************

With my heavy cloak covering my costume and protecting me from the night air I left Constance waving on the doorstep and alighted the carriage Laura had sent for me. On the seat inside I found a small silver flask and a note. The paper was rose scented and the perfume filled the carriage as I opened it.

'Dear Salomé,' it read, the hand writing extravagant and flowing, 'a little nip to warm the senses.' I opened the flask and sniffed the contents. The heady flavour was immediately recognisable, brandy. I raised the flask to my lips and took a long drink. It burned deliciously in my throat and I felt it slipping down, warming and awakening as it trickled through my body. By the time the carriage was slowing to a halt outside the Ashton's town house the flask was empty.

***********

The butler showed me into a quiet hall, so silent that I began to wonder if I had been mistaken in the date of the party. Then I remembered Laura's note about the brandy and relaxed. Perhaps the party had not yet begun? The butler was opening a small door towards the back of the hallway. It led to dark stairs leading down, lit by stout flickering candles set into niches carved high into the stone walls. The whole of the passage way, each step, the walls and the ceiling were hewn from stone. I looked with some surprise to the butler's face but he showed no emotion and merely handed me a lantern from a collection of various others just inside the door. As I held it aloft with a trembling hand he quickly lit the candle within it, closed the door and left me in the dimly lit stairway.

My lantern was made of stained glass, as deep a blue as my costume beneath the cloak I still wore and I wondered briefly if Laura had instructed him to give me this particular light. The steps were clean and my feet, in their silken slippers, made pattering noises as I carefully picked my way down. The darkness drew back a little as I descended and I could hear music coming from below my feet. Deeper and deeper I went each step leaving behind the girl I was once was and bringing me nearer and nearer to the woman I was to become. The symbolism lay heavy about me as though the whole event was merely a stage for my seduction of Mr Cullen. My stomach quivered when I thought of him. What would his costume be? Would he recognise me? How on earth would I go about seducing him? The music was more obvious now, a reedy pipe and a heavy drumbeat sounding together in some arcane tribal rhythm. The next turn of the steps would be the last; I took a deep breath and rounded the corner.

Such a sight was laid out before me! The cavern, for such was the only word I could conjure for such a place, was vast. The low ceiling carved from the stone and stretching back further than I could imagine the Ashton house could cover. The whole place was hung and swathed about in diaphanous fabrics in bright jewel colours. They shimmered, softening the glow of the stained glass lanterns which hung from the roof, low over the heads of the revellers. I saw women dressed in fantastical costumes dancing and drinking and laughing. Their jewels sparkling in the dim light like a sultan's treasure. They reclined on low couches and cushions; some were dancing sinuously to the strange music. The air was heavily scented with perfume and another fragrance, heavy and cloying which aroused in me a strangely familiar feeling.

A gentleman dressed as Roman emperor brushed by me, on his arm was Cleopatra, her sparkling silver snake wound about her temple and her kohl rimmed mask obscuring her identity. It seemed that each of the revellers had their opposite; there was an oriental emperor and his geisha shuffling beside him in her long kimono. There a French lord and his courtesan and there a man dressed as Samson, his muscles shown off by the leather of his short tunic, pulling a giggling Delilah onto his knee. I searched in vain for someone I knew but none of the characters seemed to be Laura, Bosie or Mr Cullen.

My attention was drawn to a young highwayman making his way towards me. His high leather boots gleamed in the dim light and the musket at his belt seemed alarmingly realistic. In his hand he held a decanter of some green liquid and a small velvet bag, obviously his booty from the evening. His wide hat was topped with a broad white feather and this dipped dangerously near the lanterns as he made his way across the floor to me. His frame was slight and I frowned, trying to think who he might be. In a moment he was upon me and he swept his hat off in a low bow. His dark curls alerted me to his identity immediately.

"Laura!" I gasped in surprise as she stood again, her mischievous eyes twinkling behind the black scarf that covered her mouth. "What a marvellous costume! I never would have thought of coming as a man!"

"Well I couldn't come as a whore could I?" her laugh was loud and infectious. "Besides you've seen that outfit!" She passed me the decanter she was swinging beside her. "Absinthe!" She nodded toward some cushions behind us and sat herself down in a most unladylike fashion, her legs splayed out like a man. She rummaged in the velvet bag and brought out a small object which looked like a forked spoon. From beside her she produced a small wine glass.

I watched in fascination as she placed the fork over the wine glass. I had no idea what she was doing.

"What's abs...?" I asked unsure how to pronounce the foreign word. She looked back to me from her task of placing a small lump of what looked like sugar onto the fork.

"Nectar of the Gods, Isabella. It will give you just the courage you need to seduce your Romeo." She began pouring the green liquid onto the sugar and I watched as the sugar began to crumble and dissolve. Laura flourished a match and touched it to the sugar. It blazed with a blue green flame. I had started back a little and she grabbed my arm with one hand as she held the burning fork in the other. "The water!" she hissed moving her head to gesture to a vessel behind me which seemed to contain water. As I passed it to her chunks ice clinked against the glass. Swiftly she doused the flame with the water and passed me the glass. Her alchemy finished, she laughed with delight at the wonder written upon my face. "Drink it down dear! And let the party begin!"

I touched the warm liquid to my lips. They stung with the pungent aniseed flavour and the sweet mixture slipped down my throat seeming to tingle in the very cells of my body. Laura tilted my hand and the drink spilled into me quicker than I had anticipated. As I wiped drops from my chin I felt a familiar lazy warmth settling through my limbs and I looked up at her with heavily lidded eyes.

"Now there is the vixen I met at Madam Chang's," she whispered in my ear, her hot breath tickling my throat. She pulled down the scarf which covered her lips and brought my face towards hers; giving me a slow and languorous kiss. Her tongue stroked against mine causing me to shiver and cling to her, my body on fire. She broke the kiss and looked me in the eyes. She was so beautiful, this girl boy creature with her lips of flame. She spun me slowly to face the crowded room. The music seemed to reach inside me and pull me into its rhythm. I felt my hips begin to sway, hypnotised by the beat. "There, "Laura breathed again in my ear, her hand pointing out across the room. "There is your Romeo."

I looked and there he was. How was it that I had not seen him before? His presence was luminous, divine. He leant against the stone wall, a champagne glass in his hand. His doublet was made of pale grey silk and studded with pearls and sparkling gems. His white shirt slashed open a little at the neck to reveal the bulge of his Adam's apple and the soft curling hairs upon his chest. His long, lean legs were tightly clad in a darker shade of silken hose, accentuating his calves and thighs. His hair was like fire, swept around his head in a messy tangle and from his ear was a tear shaped pearl. A gentle push from Laura sent me spinning towards him like a moon caught in the orbit of its planet.

So, did you spot yourself at the party Roguettes? Who were you sporting with you naughty ladies?  Did you recognise me?

Will Salome succeed in her planned seduction of Romeo? Will Lady Laura hold anyone to ransom? Who has Bosie come dressed as? Send me a review gentle reader and all will be revealed! (Yes that is a bribe!)

As usual a big thank you to my partners in crime Awesomesauce76 and Jrh927 (read their stories, they're fab!).


	13. Chapter 13

'Give a man a mask and he will tell you the truth.' Oscar Fingal O'Flaherty Wills Wilde

Miss Swan's POV

He was staring not seeing, it seemed, the dancers who moved before him. His eyes were unfocussed and his mouth relaxed. The glass dangling in his hand caught the light and the champagne dripped from its lip like a tear, pooling at his feet. I moved into the loose crowd of revellers and the drumbeat shifted slightly to a pulsing rhythm which seemed to echo the drumming of my heart in my ears.

The press of bodies against my flimsy costume fanned my flame of desire so quickly ignited by Laura and her mysterious potion. I felt abandoned, feral and the beating drum and the keening pipe reached deep into my being and began to move me in time with their ancient, primitive call. I swayed my hips, aware of the soft movement of the silk around my body as I surrendered to the dance. My companions' faces swam before me as we moved like one creature to the persuasion of the music. White teeth glinted in wild smiles and sweat dripped from our bodies as the beat grew faster and faster. I was reminded briefly of the fish I had seen from the deck of the ship as i had crossed the Atlantic, gathered in a great throng and yet moving together as though each fish knew the mind of the other. The object for my quest was forgotten for a moment in the sheer exhilaration which swept through my body as we twisted and turned together. My breath burned in my throat and my blood pounded in my head as we danced, whirling and writhing like trees caught in a gale. Hidden and yet exposed, wild and yet untried I danced until I found myself through the crowd. The music slowed, the beat still insistent and compelling but now softer and more sensual and I let my body form its own expression of my feelings. Never had I felt so much surrender, never had I felt more alive. My arms twisted sinuously as the music led them and I dipped and shivered with the beat of the drum. As I turned, panting, sweat beading on my brow beneath the peacock feathers which allowed this freedom, my lips parted with my breath I found myself face to face with Mr. Cullen.

So close was I to him that I felt his breath upon my mouth, saw his pupils dilate. My breath was held in my throat and I was sure he had recognised me, but the drum and the pipe gave me courage and I smiled into his surprised expression. Relief flooded my brain as he smiled a lazy smile back to me and, reaching out his hand, took my fingers in his own and pulled me to him.

Mr Cullen's POV

Laura had outdone herself. The party was already reached that heady point of the evening where inhibitions had been shed and people were losing themselves in the temptations on offer. Bosie and I were late as usual, I had been kept waiting while he and his guest had made their final arrangements to their costumes. From my vantage point in the hall the squeals and moaning from upstairs hadn't sounded much like the sounds of dressing, in fact, quite their opposite. When Bosie finally made his grand entrance I was astonished by the enormous Greek helmet he was wearing. the sweeping black plume and bronze metal work fitted perfectly with the armour he was wearing and the lethal looking sword at his hip. I was still searching my memory of Greek myths for his identity when a youth, barely decent in what appeared to be a white bed sheet, stepped out from the room behind him. Bosie grinned widely. I slapped my forehead in mock surprise.

"**Van Baburen! 'Achilles- deciding to resume fighting upon the death of Patrocles'. "I cried as the pair swept down the stairs towards me.**

"**Well done Romeo!" laughed Bosie dragging me out into the murky night with the semi naked boy trailing after us.**

**I had attended a few of Laura's soirées and so it was with little surprise I followed the butler to the narrow door to the rear of the hallway. One of the attractions of the house was its capacious cellar, hewn from the very rock of the city. Laura's father, once when in his cups, had told us that the rooms below had been carved out by none other than Sir Francis Dashwood himself and that they had been the location of many dark and secret meetings of the Hellfire Club. This story had fuelled our young imaginations and we had enjoyed our own clandestine rites beneath the house on several occasions. **

**I knew that Laura wouldn't have allowed any servant into her secret labyrinths and so I marvelled for a moment at the trouble to which she had put herself to create such an intoxicating and lavish den for our delights. The low ceiling was slung with silken scarves which shivered in the heat of the lamps giving the place a dim but warming glow and the feel of an Arab's tent. The air was heavily scented with incense and with the music it succeeded in giving the cavern an exotic feel. We might well have been transported to another realm. A realm inhabited by fantastical creatures who danced and swayed, drank and fondled, laughed and draped themselves upon couches and low cushions. **

**My eyes swept the room for Laura. I knew that I had been churlish of late and I appreciated her desire to lift my spirits. It had been weeks since I had seen Miss Swan and , though her presence lay about me like a sombre cloak and my guilt soaked heart felt heavy in my breast, I did indeed feel some lightness in seeing the great trouble to which my friends had gone on my account. They had even picked out my costume. I had to laugh when I saw the note which came with the beribboned box Bosie's man had left with Victor that morning. Only Laura and Bosie could be so clever.**

'Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,  
Compare her face with some that I shall show,  
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.'

**So, here I stood trying to decide which of these outlandishly costumed revellers answered to the name of Laura. A French courtesan, her powdered wig piled as high as her bodice was cut low swayed by me laughing on the arm of her escort. Catherine the Great, surrounded by a bevy of admirers as her outfit demanded, lounged on one of the low couches, her head tilted back to pluck the grape dangled before her by a man dressed in the costume of the steppes. A Red Indian girl ran by me laughing as a native young man chased her into a dark corner, her fringed outfit flicking out and leaving nothing to the imagination. None of them were Laura. I was just beginning to wonder where she was when I saw a small, lithe highwayman and I knew at once from her boots that this was she. There had been a notable occasion where Laura's fancy dress character had been 'Puss in Boots', the boots had been the sole item of her costume.**

**Laura sauntered over, every inch the young rogue about town. She cheekily pinched the bottom of a young woman wearing a kimono much less revealing than the Lola wore at Madam Chang's. The young lady squealed and turned round to see who her assailant might be. Laura gallantly swept a low bow and the girl giggled into her hand and went back to her conversation. Above her scarf which covered her mouth Laura raised a rakish eyebrow. **

"**Why, Dick Turpin, I never realised you were such a danger to young women!" I laughed as I took the drink that Laura was passing to me; I sniffed the glass, it smelt of aniseed. "Absinthe?" I was surprised that Laura was drinking this so soon in the evening. **

"**I have learnt my roguish ways from a master dear Romeo." She leered at me, looking pointedly at my hose and we laughed together. "Does it look like fun darling?" She linked her arm in mine and we walked to where Bosie, still wearing the ridiculous helmet, was posing for the crowd as the young man clad in a bed sheet lay prostrated at his feet. "Van Baburen's Achilles?" asked Laura, her voice muffled by the mask. **

"**I thought Achilles a most appropriate character!" Bosie stepped over the young man and joined us, clinking his brink against my own. "After all I too have only one weakness."**

"**One?" Laura and I said in union, laughing together. **

"**Yes, dear hearts, my one weakness is sin!" We were still laughing, and I was beginning to feel the effects of the wormwood flashing though my blood, when Laura spotted someone she wanted to speak to across the room and strode away from us, her swagger and confidence stopping other revellers as they turned to stare in her wake. **

"**So have you seen anything that takes your fancy Romeo?" Bosie leaned on my arm affectionately. "Do stop pining, it's so pitiful. I can't bear it." I smiled to him, I **_**was**_** enjoying myself despite my concerns that the whole affair would be jaded and that my encounter with Miss Swan might have leeched the joy from my life entirely. He wandered off, no doubt to find his Patrocles, and I leaned against the rough stone wall and watched the party unfold.**

**I cannot say for certain what it was that first drew her to my attention, perhaps it was the vivid blue of her scanty costume, or maybe the way her own dark eyes merged with the peacock feathers of her mask or even the seductive swaying of her dance as she moved though the crowd but I was suddenly aware of a woman making her way towards me though the throng of writhing bodies. As though the gods were creating a background of sound for her approach the musicians took up a thumping tribal rhythm and I watched her hypnotised as the undulations of her body moved in time with the pulsing beat. **

**Her skin was milk white and temptingly revealed by the costume she wore. The sequins and jewels fixed about her person winked like a million eyes in the soft lamplight. She spun and whirled, her hair cascading out behind her dark like the evening sky and set with stars. Unbidden a line of verse rose in my mind, 'she walks in beauty like the night...' Byron, of course. I smiled at the symmetry of the poem with this mysterious exotic woman. **

**There was no mistaking her identity. She was Salomé, seductress and erotic manipulator of King Herod. Her hips shivered in time to the increasingly frenzied beat and I felt my mouth go dry. Had I been Herod I would have given her anything. Her dark hair, contrasting with her pale skin and the vibrant colour of the silks which exposed so much and yet revealed so damnably little, made me think of the line Bosie and Laura had written for me with my costume. This was no swan, this was a crow indeed. Blue black and laden with dark promise like midnight herself. **

**The music grew louder, more frenetic and the bodies whirled like dervishes, fabrics and sparkles thrown out as they twirled and twisted. Like fish in shoal they whipped this way and that and she was ever their centre, like a siren, calling to me, calling to my blood which stirred in my body which in turn cried out to be touched. Her silken strands floated out around her like delicate fins. I could see the perspiration beading her lips and the curve of her breasts. A tear of moisture circled her chin, dripping into the forbidden cleft between them and my fingers, my tongue, longed to follow. I wet my lips, unconscious of the gesture, unconscious of all else save her presence before me, this vision of desire. Each breath she took heaved at her chest as she kept time with the mad thrumming of the drums. She drank in air hungrily, fanning the urgent energy in the room by her wild dancing.**

**The crowd had moved nearer and nearer to me in their feral capering, pushing her to the front, dancing around her, under her swaying arms, around her stamping feet. A wave of rose scent emanated from her person, the smell igniting my sense bringing me to a painful hardness with the proximity of her semi naked body. The silks clung to her breasts, stretched taut over the erect nipples, my hand moved against my will, aching to touch, to nip and caress. I was overpowered by her, by this female animal, this sensual predator.**

**Suddenly she was pressed against me, her body hot and damp from the dancing. She looked into my face and I felt my mouth fall open at the intensity of her gaze. My fingers, succeeding in the task they had been longing to accomplish, pulled her close to me, forcing her against my hardness, letting her feel how aroused I had become by her movements. She gasped in a little breath, the sound inflaming me more than I had thought possible. I ground my body against her and she writhed against me. All conscious thought was gone and I revelled once again in the beast which I had feared banished by the recent weeks. Feeling more myself than I had for an age I growled into her hair hearing her whimper and shiver under my hands. **

**The revellers were still dancing as I dragged my little Salomé through the crowd to a quieter anteroom just off the main chamber. I threw myself down on the cushions pulling her down on top of me. She moved her mouth to kiss me but I pulled away, I didn't want any shallow display of affection. This would be primal, animal and I relished the act I was about to commit as a true baptism of my real self. Her hands were on the buttons of my trousers and I leaned back, allowing her access. Her fingers trembled against my stiff manhood and I groaned and thrust against her as she fumbled with the buttons. Watching her shivering hands and listening to her sighs of desire I felt an overwhelming urge to show her who was the man, to finally exorcise any quivering demon of love who had dared to toy with my affairs. **

**I rolled her onto the floor beside me, pinning her down with one leg and holding her hands together in my big palm. The other hand I ran lightly over her shaking body, I could feel the heat which blazed out from between her thighs and I smiled thinking how easy it would be to overpower and have her anyway I pleased. She bucked and writhed under my touch and I used my practised skill to bring her closer and closer to release, teasing her cunny with my gentle fingers until, in desperation and abandoning all ladylike demeanour, she splayed her legs wide and offered herself to me. I smiled inwardly at my easy victory. This was my natural battle ground, the thrill of the hunt, the subjection of my quarry to my every whim. I placed my head next to hers, her eyes wide and her body responding blindly to my trailing, teasing fingers.**

"**Do you know who I am?" I whispered in her ear, flicking her neck with my tongue. She trembled and quivered. Her eyes rolled up and she nodded and groaned. "Then say it. Say it out loud."**

**Her body began to writhe more desperately, reaching for my elusive touch, for the friction which would bring her release.**

"**Edward." She moaned her voice soft and for a moment I thought I was mistaken. As one who wakes from a dream I realised why her voice was so familiar. My mind a blur with thought, with angry reproach for my actions, with rage for my deception, I pushed myself up from the floor. **

"**Miss Swan? "Even to my own ears my voice sounded dangerous, threatening. She clung to my leg, her body still shaking. "How could you.... why did you....?" I was at a loss for words. "I told you I was a bad man. What is wrong with you? Why did you want this?" I gave her no time to answer and made to leave but she held on to me as though the room was a swirling ocean and I a rock, her only chance of survival. **

"**Edward...." she wept her mask falling from her face as she clung to me. " I want...." I bent low, my face level with hers as I looked into her eyes.**

"**Miss Swan, "my voice was cold. " I do not love women. I corrupt them. I sully them. I debauch them." Once again I attempted to leave, trying to pull my leg from her grip.**

"**Then corrupt me, sully me, debauch me!" she cried weeping afresh. I bent down and prised her fingers from my calf one by one.**

"**No." I said.** ********************* **Phew!!! So dear reader, am i a tease? A flirt? a temptress? Yes I jolly well am! But when it comes (ahem) it will be worth it. I promise.** **So, what did you think? How long can I keep this (ahem) up and still have you wanting more? Send me a review my gentle readers and let me know your thoughts and desires. **

**Thanks as always to the awesome awesomesauce76 and the tremendous jrh927 and her edible Roguewrd ******


	14. Chapter 14

Lady Laura Ashton's POV

I saw him pass me in a blur of fury, dropped my drink into the lap of the young lady whose luscious mouth had been my past hour's occupation and fled after him. Bosie, seeing the commotion, was rushing to the door but I pushed him back with a hand gasping out that he was to find Isabella. I wanted this talk with Edward alone, Bosie would have defended his oldest friend against me and I thought I might have to give my tongue a free rein if I were to make Edward see sense.

I dashed up the steps, his footsteps echoing back to me from just around the corner. Thank god i was wearing the tight trousers of the highwayman, a skirt would have made this pace impossible. As I burst out into the hall, my hair flying out and my mask slung about my neck, he was already in his cloak and heading for the door.

"Cullen!" I shouted after him my voice sounding hoarse with emotion. "Cullen, don't you dare leave!" At this he spun around on his heel and the expression on his face made my heart stop with fear. His nostrils were flared and his breath was heaving at his chest. His eyes were narrowed and the thick brows jutted over them as he frowned at me, twisting his mouth into a snarl. He took two long strides back to me and grabbed my arm.

"What?" He growled barely moving his lips. "Do you presume to tell me what I should do, Laura? Where I should go? What I should wear?" He ripped the pearl earring from his ear and flung it across the room. It skittered away as though it too was in fear of this tornado of a man. He brought his face level with mine, still gripping my arm painfully. "Whom I should fuck?" The last words hissed out through his teeth. I could not speak. He was aflame with rage and my words were quite gone. With a gesture of disgust he flung my arm away and strode out of the door. After a moment's hesitation I followed him.

"Edward, you don't understand, I'm not telling you what to do. I'm trying to make you see that you might just be about to lose a more precious thing than you have ever had!" I grabbed his arm and then, as he glared at me, I took it away. At least now he wasn't shouting. Instead his face was now a mask of calm, for some reason that frightened me more than his previous fiery anger .

"Precious thing? That...whore?" he actually spat into the gutter at that word. That was it. My final shred of patience gone I reached back with my arm and, god help me, I punched him on the chin. Like a man. Out in the street. My hand flamed with pain and Edward held his chin in his palm and looked at me in wonder. I stared back at him, as surprised as he was by my actions.

"She's not a whore Edward. "His eyes scanned the street for his cab and he answered me as nonchalantly as if I hadn't just hit him in the chin.

"Oh really? And how do you explain her willingness just then? Her..." He shook his head and a spark of hope glittered inside me, he still felt something for her.

"Edward, she wouldn't have been so willing with anyone else. She came tonight, dressed as she was because I told her that she should seduce you. She wants you Edward, not any man!" The cab was rounding the corner and he raised his hand to beckon the driver. The horse drew up before us and Edward had the door open and was alighting before I could speak again. As the carriage began to pull away he put his face to the open window.

"What about Arty's weekend? With Constance? I suppose you're going to tell me that she thought that was me too?" he sneered and the carriage began to move away.

I stood on the pavement, panting and angry and full of the desire to avenge the wounded honesty of my friend. Then I ran at the departing carriage, leapt onto the running board and propelled myself through the window. With hindsight it must have been quite a peculiar spectacle to see a young highway man hurtling at a cab and throwing himself through the window in the fashionable end of town. This was exacerbated by the fact that I only half managed to gain entry to the interior of the cab, my hips wedged in the narrow window frame and my bottom and legs protruding out into the street.

Edward gaped and then began to laugh.

"God's sake man! Pull me in damn you!" I shouted in his face. He grabbed my hands and pulled me indecorously through the window until I was heap on the floor of the cab. The driver, ascertaining that the commotion was over, whipped the horse into a trot. I scrambled to sit opposite Edward who was still laughing. So relieved was I that we were not fighting, and imagining the comedy of the scene, I laughed with him. It was a few moments until we caught our breath. I leant forward, taking his hands in my own and looked into his eyes.

"She knew you were there! That night, with Constance, she knew you were outside! She wanted to show you! She was angry with you after what she saw with Art on the balcony. It was exactly what you would have done Edward! Exactly the same thing! Ah!" i threw up my hands in exasperation. "Stop being so bloody moral and superior Edward, you've no right to either soapbox." He opened his mouth to protest but I didn't let him speak. "Edward, who do you love most, Laura or Lola?" I saw him trying to comprehend how my question bore any relevance to our previous discussion. He opened his mouth to speak and then stopped. He tried again.

"Both, for different reasons. I can do things with Lola that I can't do with...you," he trailed off and smiled, "but I can do things with you that I wouldn't dream of doing with Lola." He concluded rubbing his thumb across my fingers. I removed one of my hands and stroked the side of his face, noticing for the first time that his ear was bleeding from where he had torn the earring.

"Dear Eddie." I whispered soothingly. "And now you have your very own Lola, your very own Laura." He looked up now, frowning. I could see he didn't yet grasped what I was saying. "Eddie, "my voice was earnest now, urgent that he should take in and understand my words. "You can have Isabella and Salome. She isn't some beast or whore that you've created Eddie. She chose your path. She chose to be like you, like us." He dropped his head into his hands and I thought for a moment I had lost him, that he was too blind and arrogant to see the marvellous thing that had happened to him. Then I saw that his shoulders were shaking and I saw the tears splashing from under his hands onto his boots. I reached and ran my fingers through his thick hair, soothing and stroking.

After a few moments he raised his head. His eyes, though red rimmed, were bright and his voice was the excited boy I had loved for so long.

"What can I do now? I have spurned her... I made her cry." His face twisted up again and I saw the pain which this thought brought him writ large in his eyes.

"I'll think of something Eddie I promise. She'll need convincing and we'll have to build her confidence again. She was so brave tonight." He sighed and leaned back against the leather of the seat.

"What an ass I've been, Laura. What a bastard." I nodded and he laughed again.

"Don't worry, I'll think of something to make you pay Isabella back for it!" I banged on the roof of the cab and shouted for the driver to take me back to the house. Edward's hand was on the handle as we approached but I stopped him with my own. "Not tonight Eddie, let me deal with this. I'll let you know what I decide. Be led by me in this." He nodded and I stepped down from the cab, ignoring the gaggle of servants who had gathered outside to watch the lady of the house hurtling through the window of a moving carriage. I swept back into the hallas the cab sped away; hoping that the damage Eddie had done was not irreparable.

Thank god for Lady Laura eh? I think she fought her corner well don't you? So, how CAN he make it up to her? What is Laura's devious and corrupted mind going to conjure which will make Isabella confident enough to believe in Edward's change of heart?

As always, you Roguettes are the cat's pyjamas! Thanks for all the lovely reviews and PMs, you really make my day.


	15. Chapter 15

Miss Swan's POV

I was thankful for the Laura's foresight in arranging that I would sleep at her house for the few nights after the party despite the fact that I knew she had thought there would be a different reason that I would not want to return to stay with the Wilde's. It hurt that she had shown such absolute confidence in my ability to seduce Mr. Cullen, that she had not for one moment thought he would reject me so awfully. My mid shied away like a frightened horse from the memory of his cold voice, his cruel fingers prising open my grip on his leg, his back as he walked away forever. Now I repulsed him, he thought me not only uncouth and unladylike but also he considered me a whore, a free woman. When I had recovered from my desperate weeping, I had raged against his double standards, after all wasn't he great friends with Lola? Now I had sunk into a grey melancholy. I lay in my room, my costume of the night before strewn across the floor as I had left it. I had never before been so negligent of my belongings and the garments looked at me accusingly as testament of my wilful desire to disappear and so spare myself the grim prospect of living though this grief. The worst thing about this feeling was that we were expected at Lady Alice Choughton's piano recital that evening. I would have rather died.

Bosie had washed my face as gently as any nurse and, after turning away gallantly while I numbly dressed in my nightclothes, had tucked me into bed. There was a gentle knock and Laura's head poked around the door. She came in carrying a tea tray, on it was a toast rack and a large pot of tea. She poured us both a cup without speaking and perched on the bed beside me, gesturing for me to eat. I shook my head, the fog inside my brain had dulled any hunger I might be feeling and I couldn't bear the thought of food. Laura took a piece of the toast and delicately buttered it, smearing jam from a silver pot across the slice and forcing my frozen fingers to hold it. She manoeuvred it to my lips and made me bite.

"My dear, this will not do." She spoke gently but I could hear the annoyance in her voice. At the thought of her disappointment my eyes welled with tears. She put down her cup and stroked my cheek. "Oh, I'm not angry with you Isabella, just that beast of a man!" Her voice was hot with annoyance and I looked at her. How could she still be so angry? I had spent the remainder of the evening listening to her ranting to Bosie about his 'prig of a best friend'." I'm just wild with rage at Edward! I know he cares for you my dear! And he knows it too. I have a mind to show him!" I shook my head; I couldn't be part of this any longer. The thought of even seeing him again made my stomach turn cold with shame. I nodded, my tears dropping heavily onto the coverlet. Laura stroked my hair thoughtfully. "Well, he won't be at Alice's tonight. He'd never dare to show his face again near me if he has any sense at all." Laura was fierce when she was angry and I doubted Mr. Cullen would be so brave as to defy her wishes. I hoped not.

"I'll send the maid up, you can wear one of my dresses, I have just the one. Come on my dear, it's time to be rather English about it all and keep one's chin up!" Laura stood and brushed down her skirt. I laughed at her brisk voice and she smiled warmly. "That's the spirit my girl! We won't be beaten by a man, damn it all backwards!" She swept from the room after kissing me lightly on the cheek.

I sat on the bed for a long time, feeling the sunshine from the window on my face. I mentally gave myself a shaking, I had decided on a course of action after the evening at Madam Chang's, if this was what the decision had brought me, then I must accept it with as much grace as I could. I would be more wary from now, that was only prudent, but I would not let one selfish man's arrogance ruin my life. Laura would be my model for a modern woman. I squared my shoulders and forced a smile as the maid came in carrying a dress made from a deep purple silk.

Mr Cullen's POV

I had slept very little after my 'talk' with Laura. Her words echoed around my head as I sat by the fire in my room. Was it too late? Had I truly thrown away this precious gift which Miss Swan had offered to me? For now I saw it clearly as a gift: the gift of her reputation, her standing in society. All night I had run wildly with my thoughts. I would propose romantically, we would marry, I saw us happy together in the public eye and happier still in the privacy of our own demi monde. In my fantasies we romped with Lola, we exchanged witty comments with the Wilde's, we crossed the Atlantic, leaning together on the rail of the ship in the sunset, we dined with her parents, we loved passionately. But as the sun rose and the room was tinged with golden light a more horrible and cold truth crept into my thoughts. I had hurt Miss Swan, maybe beyond redemption. The dreadful image of her tear stained face, the mouth pulled harshly with shame and disappointment imprinted itself upon my brain.

I was a fool and a bastard. I had been called far worse in the past without flinching but now these words and the heavy truth behind them crushed me beneath their weight. I got up from the window and lay down on the bed, still dressed in my outfit of the night before. My ear stung where I had ripped the pearl from it and I toyed with it absently until I felt my fingers slick and looked at them to see them stained with blood. The image created no feeling inside me. How could I care for my own person when I had hurt the one to whom I owed so much? How would I ever be able to absolve myself of those harsh words?

I heard Victor answering the door downstairs and my heart stirred a little until I reminded myself that it was unlikely to be anything from Miss Swan. No doubt my name brought her nothing but revulsion now and I deserved no more. I acknowledged Victor's light knock and he announced that there was a letter from Ashton house. He passed it to me and, glancing wryly at my costume and dishevelled state, retired quietly. With trembling fingers I ripped open the envelope. It was Laura's writing.

"Eddie, be at Alice's tonight. Be prepared for humility. I'll call later, Laura"

A mixture of emotions flooded my mind. Firstly I felt elated that I would once again see Miss Swan, secondly I wondered what idea Laura had come upon that would allow me to make up for some of my terrible behaviour and, thirdly, I felt an emotion entirely alien to me, I felt fear. What if Miss Swan cut me in public? What if she refused to speak to me, to even look at me? Dear reader, it was entirely evident to me that the boot was now upon the other foot. And I did not like it, not one bit.

Miss Swan's POV

I am sure that the forced nature of my gay mood had not escaped Laura as we travelled in her carriage to the Choughton's house. We both were painfully aware of my desire to stay hidden in my room, even to never get out of bed again. We chose to ignore the unpleasant fact and pretend as though we had not a care in the world. She had produced a hip flask from her small evening bag and, after drinking from it herself, passed it to me.

"I always find it useful to be a little tight at Alice's recitals!" she laughed and I joined in, determined to act cheerfully despite the anxiety I was feeling. Laura had assured me that Mr. Cullen would, under no circumstances, appear at the piano concert. He hated this sort of civilised affair and he knew that she was still upset with him about her party. Only under these reassurances had I agreed to accompany Laura this evening.

Even though I still felt somewhat under confident, I had to admit that the dress Laura had selected for me was exquisite. The bodice was cut quite low but without fear of indecency. The handmade, black lace which trimmed the gorgeous purple silk accentuated the paleness of my skin at my throat. She had lent me her jewels, huge amethysts cut so that they sparkled in the gas light with an exotic sheen. Against my dark hair and pale skin the outfit lent me an otherworldly air. It had been just the tonic I needed to see myself in the mirror looking like a beauty from a gothic romance novel.

The brandy warmed its way through my body and settled in my stomach. I reminded myself that no one at the Choughton's would know anything of my disgrace. Even those members of society who had been at Laura's masked ball had not seen the exchange between myself and Mr. Cullen. I doubted they would have admitted to such even if they had, considering their own impropriety that evening. Laura was fastening the clasp of her bag and gathering her skirts to disembark as the carriage pulled up outside the elegant town house.

The marble steps to the house were crowded with polite society; everyone busy displaying their wealth and status by way of their fabulous clothes and family jewels. Women stood with their husbands and fiancés, linked arm in arm but gossiping amongst themselves as though the men were not present at all. I was certain that I recognised a number of them from Laura's party. Was that not Delilah, leaning on the arm of a young gentlemen who was certainly not Samson, laughing gaily at a comment made by a lady not dissimilar to the French courtesan I had seen disporting herself in a very unladylike manner the evening before? I nudged Laura discreetly and she nodded and smiled to the two women who smiled demurely in reply as we passed them on the stairs.

"And there's our native Red Indian girl, and there our oriental geisha. " she carefully indicated two more women standing with, whom I presumed to be, their husbands inside the Choughton's hallway waiting for the butler to take their coats and wraps. I tried not to gape as they walked ahead of us into the room where the recital was to take place.

It was the same room where Lady Alice's ball had been held and I tried to steer my mind from that evening's events when I saw the door which I knew led off into the library. The thought of my elation as I had heard Mr. Cullen professing his love for me to Bosie only served as a sharp reminder of my abject failure of the night before. Before I could begin to dwell on the evening at Madam Chang's Bosie arrived and pressed a glass of champagne into my hand. I smiled in thanks and sipped the fizzy wine. The bubbles tickled against my nose and the now familiar warmth which the drink brought to my senses reminded me again of how far I had come since the first night I had met Mr. Cullen, when a few glasses of brandy had caused me to faint. Bosie was speaking and so I turned my attention to the conversation.

"You look ravishing!" he began, grimacing slightly when he realised he had used the favourite word of one whom we would not be mentioning tonight. He gathered himself and carried on, "really darling you look beautiful. Laura you should let her have this dress! Have you ever worn it Laura?"

"No, I was saving it for a special occasion, but seeing Isabella looking so beautiful is just such a special occasion!" she laughed and squeezed my hand. I looked to them both and was struck again by how lucky I was to have such friends as these.

At the end of the room a piano was tinkling and people were beginning to move to the chairs which were gathered in groups of six and seven around the room. As we moved to a cluster of chairs near the edge of the room I could see over the heads of the now seated guests that Lady Alice was standing next to a young man who was bent over the piano keys. Although he faced us, his concentration was focussed on the sheet of music on the stand in front of him and we could not see his face. Lady Alice brought her hands together under her breasts and began to sing, her voice high and warbling nervously over the first few notes. The pianist began to play and the beauty of the music superseded Alice's attempts and her voice was drowned out by the talented fingers of the young man at the piano.

The delicate notes swelled around us and I closed my eyes, enraptured by the unearthly sound. The music danced over me, waking, with the pianist's gentle fingers, the sadness I had been hiding in my soul. I felt the tears spill from my eyes as they were enchanted from me by the lilting sadness of the notes. I fumbled in my evening bag for a kerchief and dabbed my cheeks, surreptitiously glancing to see if anyone had noticed my anguish. I needn't have worried; both my companions were wrapped in their own feelings, no doubt stirred by the music.

Alice had stopped singing and it became clear that the pianist was not playing the music which she had expected. She stood, her mouth open slightly and her bottom lip pouting petulantly as she looked at the young man who was playing the piano which such tenderness and passion. He hunched over the keys, his concentration evident in his posture. The music swelled and fell into a delicate melody. It sounded sad and full of regret. But for the astonishing composition, the room was silent, all eyes turned to the pianist as he elicited such beauty from the instrument. As the music began to fade, the last notes hanging in the air as tangible as the tears which now adorned my cheeks, the young man lifted his head and looked straight into my eyes.

His face was torn with grief and I was astonished to see his own tears coursing down his handsome face. His amber eyes were red rimmed with emotion and he ran a long fingered hand distractedly through his hair which stood up on his head, making him look even more dishevelled and forlorn. It was Mr Cullen and there was no doubt at all in my mind that the powerfully emotional music which he had just performed before his peers and neighbours had been written for me.

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So dear reader, would you melt after this emotional recital? Has he succeeded in apologising to Miss Swan? How will he make it up to Salome? I'm keen to know how credible this chapter is, I worried a lot about writing it.

Thanks for all your kindness and support so far, you really are quite wonderful!! I love you all deeply.

Love and tinsel to Awesomesauce76, Jrh927 and Passionmama for their twitters, zoo visit updates (hold on tight Spider Monkey), camping tales and comedy rantings!


	16. Chapter 16

Mr Cullen's POV

I had spent all day writing the piece but as I sat at the piano stool I worried that it would not be enough. How could a few hours, even though I had poured my heart into the notes, truly show my remorse and regret at my abominable behaviour of the last few days? I had done all I could, I knew there would be no second chance for me to win the heart of Miss Swan. I didn't even dare to think how I could make amends with Salomé.

Laura had insisted on her flying visit that this was the only hope I had for undoing my ignorant and cruel actions of the night before. She hadn't suggested the music but it had been the only way I could think of where I could express my feelings as I truly felt them. Laura had insisted that my apology should be public and, though my former self baulked at the idea of performing something so personal in front of Lady Alice's guests, I had decided that this was the only course of actions available to me. She'd warned me that Miss Swan might not react in the way we hoped to my apology, that she might fly into a temper or, worse still, cry. I wasn't sure how my reputation was going to withstand a scene of this type but I knew there was nothing else I could do to make my peace.

I had thought it would not be easy to compose something that would speak of how I really felt. The deep longing and self loathing seemed, on the surface, to be at odds with themselves but as I played, scribbling down the notes as I went along, the feelings came easily to my fingers and there were only a few moments where I had to begin a section again. Finally I felt that I had it, the music was as perfect a vehicle for my feelings as I would ever manage to create. There were only two problems. Once, I had not been able to play the piece through without tears coursing down my face and, two it was only an hour until I was supposed to play this in front of all my assembled acquaintances and some ex lovers. To say that I felt nervous was quite the understatement.

Lady Alice warbled the notes of the tune I was supposed to play, some insipid music hall number prettied up for polite society. My hands hovered over the keys and for a moment it seemed as though they might rebel and refuse to play the music I had sweated over this afternoon. The moment came for me to play, I began gently, willing my soul into the notes, praying that they would intercede on my behalf, kneel before her and beg her forgiveness in a way that I could not with so many people present.

I couldn't bring myself to look up from the keys and so I kept them fixed on my hands as the music washed through me. So much of the pain I felt at hurting her, so much of the regret and shame I felt at how I had mistreated her flowed out across the room in the music. Without my realising tears began to drop from my eyes, obscuring the keys and slipping under my fingers on the smooth ivory. I was vaguely aware that Alice had stopped singing and was staring at me with mortification but I didn't care. I had to carry on and hope that my small offering would compensate in some small way for my appalling behaviour.

As I reached the final notes I willed them to speak to her and move her. As though they were tangible emissaries of my love I sent them on their mission to melt the ice I had created around Miss Swan and make her understand my remorse. I lifted my eyes from the piano; there was no reason to focus there once the music was ended. I didn't need to scan the room to find her, her presence drew me an inexorably as North draws a compass needle. She was looking back at me, her beautiful dark eyes flowing with tears of her own. All my consciousness gathered and settled itself in the pit of my stomach in a cold knot of apprehension. Her mouth quirked up at the edges in a small smile and the frozen air between us melted. I was forgiven.

My heart pounded in my chest as I made my way across the room to where Miss Swan, Bosie and Laura were standing. I drifted though the crowd, barely aware of the congratulations and praise of my acquaintances, my eyes held by the most beautiful woman in the room.

It seemed to me that I had never seen her look so beautiful. Her gown was royally purple and it seemed fitting that she accepted my apology in a garb fit for a queen. Her milk white skin peeped through the black lace which trimmed the neckline of her dress. I found myself imagining my fingers tracing its intricate patterns. At her throat were thousands of delicately cut purple gems, twinkling and sparkling in the lights. They climaxed in a large deep coloured gem over the dip between her collar bones and I felt my mouth go dry as I contemplated the soft skin there.

Gone was the inexperienced, naive young girl I had met at Oscar's dinner party. How long ago it seemed though in truth had only been a week or so. In the place of that ingénue was now a sensual and erotic adventurer, my very own Lola. Each breath she took caused her bosom to rise in its tightly laced bodice, her smooth white breasts accentuated by the dark material of her gown. I felt light headed, as though it were my own ribs encased in the strict whalebone. The thought was curiously arousing and if let my blood thrilling through my body.

"If I had told you, you would never have come." Laura was explaining earnestly, "and, in that, you would have been as bad as he." I stopped beside her watching Miss Swan's face to gauge her emotions.

"You are quite right." Miss Swan's voice was low and she looked shyly at me over the rim of her champagne glass. My heart stopped for a moment and then resumed its pounding against my ribs. "And I am very glad you lied to me Laura." My spirit soared, I felt as though love's light wings had borne me above the crowd of people in the room, as though the whole world had been erased but us two. Laura laughed and passed me a glass; I noted my trembling fingers as I took it from her.

"Eddie, I don't think I've ever seen you lost for words! " Bosie slapped me heartily on the back and laughed aloud. I laughed too and, after a moment Miss Swan and Laura joined us. "So when did you write that piece? It was very moving I must say, I think I saw lord Arthur stop drinking for a moment back there!" he laughed again as Art, scowling as he walked by us, overheard his remark. I had no doubt that this was as Bosie had meant and I was glad that he seemed intent on a young man who was his guest and not about to make another scene.

Miss Swan was looking at my face as though she was memorising every feature or that she had never met me before. Her scrutiny made me nervous and I began to speak in order to distract myself from her inquiring gaze.

"So, what have you all planned for afterwards? Alice is frightfully annoyed with me for my little impromptu concert and I doubt she'll want me to linger here drinking her father's cellar dry!" I downed my glass and selected another from a passing servant, admittedly to cover my nervousness. Laura laughed gaily and tucked her arm into the crook of my elbow as I held the glass. I took a sip.

"I thought we might retire to Madam Chang's!" she whispered scandalously. I snorted with surprise, the champagne burning my nose as I took in the laughter of my friends. Miss Swan was blushing prettily and I found myself considering the last time I had seen that crimson staining her skin. "after all, you've only apologised to Miss Swan so far, I think there's someone else who needs to hear you say sorry, don't you darling?" Laura playfully nipped my ear. It was the one from which I had ripped the earring and her tug smarted.

"Ow, "I yelped like a schoolboy, causing more laughter from Bosie and Laura "there's no need to inflict pain!" Laura raised a delicate eyebrow.

"I don't think that's entirely your decision Eddie." she remarked dryly nodding to Miss Swan who was grinning broadly over her champagne glass. "What do you think Isabella?"

"No, it's not his decision," said Miss Swan solemnly, no hint of laughter in her voice now. "I think it's up to Salomé to decide." I gulped at her seriousness and the implied menace of her comment. We had all stopped laughing now and all eyes were on me, watching for my reaction. I took Miss Swan's hand in my own and kiss the fingertips gently.

"As Salomé commands." I murmured. There was a silence amongst us as the gravity of the situation settled upon us. Had I just signed away my bachelor days? And what would happen at Madam Chang's? Despite the thrill of desire coursing through my body I felt a chill of something that, had I not been disinclined to such feelings, I would have named as dread.

Miss swan's POV

We left before Bosie and Mr Cullen, rushing out to the carriage and off into the cold London night as soon as Laura deemed it decent. Despite our giggling I knew we both were nervous with apprehension of the night ahead. As I gazed out onto the city streets, watching them turn less and less respectable as we galloped to the East End, I replayed the evening.

Mr Cullen had come upon us just as Laura was apologising for lying to me. I had realised at once that this was a point in my life at which I had two distinct options. Along one path was my opportunity to renounce my feelings for Mr. Cullen, to react angrily to Laura and her schemes and to leave London and never think of them again. Along the other path was a future which I could not imagine dared not imagine, but that I longed for with all my body and soul. Knowing I would always regret the former path and may never regret the latter I chose quickly and decisively at once. I allowed Mr. Cullen to overhear Laura's comment and I chose to let him know that I was happy that I had been so misled.

Watching his face as he fathomed my comment and the dawning look of respect and lust in his eyes I allowed myself the pleasure of feeling smug, I had made the right move. How much like chess this world of adults seemed to be! By losing one unimportant piece, my innocence, I had gained a very important advantage. As these ideas slotted themselves into place I began to feel a warm feeling of delight spreading through my body. Delight at my power over my own destiny and power over Mr. Cullen.

When Laura suggested our plan for the rest of the evening Mr. Cullen's reaction only fuelled this frisson of power. I was determined to be just the person I had envisaged myself to be and so I mentioned Salomé, quite deliberately. I could have sworn that, at the mention of her name, I saw him harden with desire. The frisson intensified and I could feel the blood pounding in my body, thrumming though my veins and awakening me to this new sensation. This feeling had not abated on our drive through the dark London streets.

When we entered Madam Chang's I was struck again by the extraordinary turn my life had taken. Only a few days ago I had trembled in this very hallway, frightened almost out of my wits by what had befallen me. Now I trembled but it was a different emotion which caused my shaking limbs. It was anticipation and her fascinating sister, excitement. I followed Laura up the stairs and into a dimly lit room which I recognised from my last visit. Laura was disrobing at once and I followed her lead in this as with all things. We helped each other with the tight lacings of our corsets until she was naked and I was in my undergarments.

"What will I wear?" This thought had only just occurred to me and I felt a knot of fear that our plans might all come undone at this early juncture. Laura, but now she was Lola and I should use her proper name in my remembering, smiled to me and passed me a long box. Inside the red tissue paper was a short kimono in exactly the style of the one in which I had first encountered her. It was royal blue and short enough to just cover the tops of my legs. I shrugged out of my underclothes and slipped the delicate silk against my skin. It was cold and its touch whispered over my body alighting it with desire. Then Laura passed me the final piece of my costume, my peacock feathered mask.

As I fastened the mask across my brow and let down my dark hair I was once again struck by the transformation that had been wrought over me. Into my hand Laura pressed the thin wooden pipe and I inhaled the heady aroma and breathed out deeply. I looked into the mirror. In it were two young women, exotic and voluptuous in their sensuality. Their eyes glittered with the smoke of the poppy and their white, lithe limbs seemed to be made for pleasure. I looked between the two of them and could not find myself there. The two women gazed back languorously as alike as twins in the flickering candlelight.

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So, I know I am a tease but it doesn't do to give in too easily (as Miss Swan has learnt!)

Thanks for letting me know what you thought about the last chapter and all the reviews so far. You really are very lovely.

Thanks too to my great friends Awesomesauce76, Jrh927! You're better than I deserve! Passionmama I'm very glad we ironed out our differences and I hope that staying with Rogueward has been worth the awkwardness of before.

Join me next time for more erotic penance at Madam Chang's establishment for the discerning gentleman!


	17. Chapter 17

OK I need to warn you, lemons!!!! I said lemons!!! Don't be nagging me about romance, I'll get there. Tonight is Mistress Salomé's night!! Now, behave!

Lola's POV

When Bosie's quiet knock came at the door I knew Salomé was ready. The opium had erased some of her inhibitions already and this was evident from the languid air with which she lay on the floor cushions. She looked more confident and seductive behind the peacock mask than I had ever seen her before. She had asked few questions when I had broached the subject of how Edward might atone for his past behaviour. The questions she had asked had piqued my interest as to her plans for the evening. I had no idea what she planned to do to Edward but I knew that this was not going to be an event I would want to miss. I was relieved, therefore, when the gentle knock came and she passed me a blue silk scarf which I was certain had been part of her costume from the party. Her instructions were clear and her voice assured me that she was now in the role of someone entirely different than the Miss Swan any of us had known.

"Blindfold him." I turned to leave and she spoke again. There was no waver to her voice, she sounded strong, confident. "Take the pipe too."

Bosie and Edward stood in the dimly lit hallway. Edward's jacket and tie were slung over Bosie's arm and their faces were more sombre than I had ever seen them before. It was as though all of us were part of some great ceremony, some sacred ritual which marked a crossing over from one life into another. I felt like a priestess of the ancients, bringing the sacred victim to the Goddess' throne.

Edward stood, his white shirt open at the neck showing the curling hair which begun on his chest. His eyes were serious and he did not speak as I passed him the pipe. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes and holding his breath as the smoke took control of his body. I could almost see the frisson of excitement in the air between us. When he opened his eyes I knew he was ready.

Bosie padded quietly down the stairs, taking Edward's jacket and tie with him. He would wait until the game was over.

It seemed proper that I should speak, say something which would let him know that the game was begun, that he should leave his old self behind him and follow me into the room where his new love waited. I showed him the blindfold.

"Do you agree to atone for your behaviour?" he nodded. "Will you wear this blindfold as a symbol of your submission?" In answer he bent forward so that I could wrap the silk about his eyes. It was folded to keep out the light and I knew that he would not be able to see much, if anything, in the dimly lit room. He was truly blind in this and I was quite amazed by his willingness to submit to this game of Salomé's. As I was about to lead him into the room he spoke and his words astonished me further.

"I am willing to submit myself to my Mistress Salomé." His voice was dark and although he did not struggle with the words I saw the effort which he had put into the admission. I confess, dear reader, this was not what I had expected but now I was inclined to believe that Salomé and Edward were about to discover that they had much more in common than they had previously contemplated.

Salomé was nowhere to be seen as we entered the room. I could feel Edward's arm trembling beneath my hand and I once again marvelled over the change this woman had wrought over the brash and arrogant young man I had known for so long. A second passed and it felt like an eternity of longing, the dim lanterns swirling the poppy smoke in the air. From the shadows she stepped towards us, as silent as a ghost, a small smile playing on her dark rouged lips. She trailed her hand down Edward's chest, he jumped a little at her touch and I saw his brow furrow as he wondered if it was she or I who was slowly pulling apart the pearl buttons on his shirt. She stood on tip toes and put her mouth as near to his ear as she could reach. He flinched at the feel of her breath on his cheek as she whispered.

"You've been a bad, bad man Mr Cullen." There was a smile in her whisper and for a moment I smiled with her. Edward was unsure and I watched him struggle with the correct response. In the end he nodded mutely. Salomé pulled the shirt down over his arms, pinning them by his sides with the fabric. It hung from his body; he looked more indecent like this than I had ever seen him look naked. She sucked in air through her teeth, the sound a vocalisation of lust. Edward's chest was heaving with his breath and I saw his nostrils flare underneath the silken blindfold.

Holding his arms by his sides with her nimble hands she rubbed herself against his body, pressing her breasts against him. I could see her nipples, hard with desire, thrust against his warm skin. Edward reached towards her instinctively; his hands stopping just short of her breasts where they were pinioned by the shirt sleeves. In a sudden movement which shocked us both Salomé slapped his hands down. They hung by his sides limply, his breathing coming more heavily.

"Not for you." She whispered and there was something different about her. I realised then that I was listening to Salomé's voice. This was not Isabella Swan anymore. This woman was predatory and erotic. Damn it, she had me mesmerised. I took my hand from his arm where it had rested after I had brought him into the room. This was private, between these two and I was ready to leave when Salomé put out her hand to me and whispered.

"Don't go Lola." She took my hand and guided it to her breast. The nipple stood out through the silk of the kimono. She rubbed herself against my hand. Her teeth glinted wickedly in the light as she purred her pleasure. She looked at Edward's face, taking in the expression of strain on his features as he strove to know what was happening before him.

"Lola, tell Edward what you're doing to me." Edward sucked in a sharp breath and there was no mistaking the indication of his ardour as his manhood stood proudly against the fabric of his trousers. I liked this game, I played it well.

"Edward I'm running my hands over Salomé's breasts." Salomé moaned as my fingers touched the delicate flesh. "I'm teasing each nipple with my fingers."She gasped as I nipped her lightly, Edward's gasp of breath followed. I smiled.

"Her nipples are so hard Edward, they're like little buds against my hands and when I roll them between my fingertips..." Salomé moaned now, her voice hoarse and desperate. Edward moaned too and he tried again to move his hands, to touch himself or Salomé, I could not tell. He could not reach and his hands fell back as he groaned in frustration. I bent my head so that my mouth was directly opposite Salomé's breasts. "I'm going to lick her now Edward. Are you listening to her? Listen to how good this feels for her." I licked her though the silk, the material causing a delicious friction between her nipple and my tongue. Salomé groaned again and the sound was an exquisite torture. She pulled my head closer to her, forcing her breast harder against my lips. Without meaning to I groaned into her breasts running my hand down her body to pull her hips against me.

Edward growled in frustration and Salomé moaned as she ground herself against me. His cock was now fully erect and he looked uncomfortable so confined by his trousers. He threw back his head, sweat beading on his brow.

"For God's sake!" We ignored him and continued to grind and sigh against each other. Salomé's eyes, though slitted with lust never left him. She drank in his frustration.

Salomé pulled away from me and gestured for us to move Edward so that he had his back to the bed. At my touch, he flinched again. Salomé ran her hands over his chest, pinching at his nipples as she passed over them. Edward thrust forward with his hips, the movement primal and animalistic. Salomé laughed a quiet chuckle and swept her hands near to, but not touching, his jutting manhood. Moisture had begun to weep from his arousal and the fabric of his trousers was damp over the tip of his cock. He moaned again and thrust vainly at the air. With a gentle push Salomé tipped him back onto the bed. He dropped heavily onto the mattress, his arms pinned beneath him. Salomé lay along his body, her breasts against his chest, her legs splayed wide as she ground above him. He thrust against her growling in his throat as he tried to relieve some of the frustration which had built inside him. Salomé rolled off his body and onto the side of the bed. Her mouth was at his ear.

"This won't be so easy Mr. Cullen, "she was breathy and Edward lay still drinking in her every word. "Shall I have Lola fuck me here beside you? Will you listen to me as she pleasures me with her hands, with her mouth?" Edward twisted against the bed, trying to turn to face her. He opened his mouth to speak but she silenced him with a finger. "If that's what I wanted, you would do this for me would you not Mr. Cullen?" There was along moment and then he spoke and she had won.

"Yes mistress Salomé." Her smile was brilliant, her happiness shone out but she did not stop. From her hands flashed something sliver which she had taken from the floor beside the bed. There was a slashing sound and I saw that the shirt which had bound his hands come away in ribbons. He moved them up, ready to grab her. Salomé slapped each hand down onto the mattress and held them down. I knew that she was not strong enough to do this alone and so I realised that Edward must still be complying with her commands. From her still radiant smile, Salomé knew it to.

"Leave your hands on the bed until I tell you to move them. Is that clear?" She hissed, Edward nodded mutely, his breath ragged and his chest heaving. She began to kiss his chest, wet open mouthed kisses and Edward writhed beneath her lips but his hands were fixed to the bed as though by some demonic force. She licked and sucked down and down and the noises from his throat became more and more frantic, more desperate as she moved lower and lower. When she reached his trousers she stopped and sat up. She looked to me and winked. I felt my eyes go wide.

"Mr. Cullen?" He nodded eager to please her any way she commanded. His submission was beautiful, made more poignant by how utterly he was changed from the man he had been. "Unbutton your trousers." His hands went to the fabric, quickly unbuttoning the tight fastening. His cock, impossibly hard and swollen, stood up from his body. Salomé licked her lips. Edward heard the sound and a small moan escaped him. She leant over him; he must have felt the warmth of her body as she leaned over, not touching him at all. Directly into his ear she whispered. "Touch yourself," there was a pause as we all waited, uncertain where the game was going. "Touch yourself," she said again nipping his bloody ear lobe between her teeth. He whimpered. "Imagine your hands are my hands."

I was unaware now of our characters, our lives outside this room as I watched Edward's long fingers creep over his hipbones as though they were the hands of a tentative girl, unsure of how to touch her lover. The tension in the room became almost unbearable as we watched him smooth his hand over his hard length. His body flexed upwards at his touch and he thumbed the moist tip with a swirling motion as he rubbed his other hand softly against himself. It was as though we had swapped bodies, as though I could feel that touch, my eyes hypnotised by the stroking movement which was becoming more and more insistent. He was close now and his moans and sighs were guttural in his throat. Salomé put her hand out and touched his hand.

"Stop." She said. He groaned, ignoring her touch as he stroked himself harder, faster, reaching for release. "Stop Mr. Cullen, " with a dreadful groan he flung back his hands and I watched in fascination as his cock twitched of its own accord, seeming to strive forward, anxious to bring itself to fulfilment. Salomé leant over him, her hair falling over his face as his breath came loud and stertorous with exertion.

"You want to please me don't you?" She asked sweetly as she ran her tongue against his throat. He nodded again but the groan which escaped his lips seemed to gainsay the gesture.

"Good." She whispered again, moving so that she straddled his chest, her knees at either side of his head. I had no doubt he could smell her arousal and his breathing became more and more laboured as he sucked in her scent.

"Lola is going to touch my breasts, aren't you Lola darling?" She looked back to me and I nodded, also under her spell. I knelt behind her, careful not to touch Edward. "And while she touches my breasts with those nimble fingers you're going to give me pleasure with your mouth." I didn't know if the gasp which followed her words came from Edward's lips or my own. Her audacity shocked me and I felt a strange pride in this fabulous seductress whom I had helped to birth into the world. She moved forward to meet his mouth. From my position behind her I could not see what she was doing but I knew the moment his tongue touched her by the ripple of lust shuddering through her body into mine as I pressed against her. I kneaded her soft breasts with their hard nubs. She shivered and trembled at our ministrations. Salomé writhed and moaned, purring her words of praise, of desire over us both, bathing us in her pleasure. I ground against her and I felt Edward thrusting with his hips, desperate for friction against his hard cock but there was none. Salomé came under my hands thrusting herself forward, forcing Edward harder against her quim.

I felt my own release rising as a wave and I cried out as did she, her hand reaching back to touch my face as her other hand pulled Edward's head up towards her wet heat. For a moment we leaned against each other, panting and feeling the perspiration which slicked our bodies together. Edward lay beneath us, his breath heaving and still thrusting vainly with his hips. Salomé gestured for me to move and I stood away from the bed, careful not to touch his cock as I moved away. His member stood painfully hard, the silky skin stretched taut with his longing. Salomé ran her hands down his body, lingering at his hips. He cried out then, a strangled, wordless cry of yearning.

"You've been very good, bad Mr. Cullen." Salomé smiled she moved his hand so it touched the glistening tip of his prick. He groaned. With her hand over his she moved his fingers, stroking him with long slow strokes. "Would you like me to touch you?" she whispered her breath against his hip bone where she lay curled, her head level with his hard arousal staring as though fascinated by the response she had elicited from this man.

"Yes Mistress Salomé. Very much." His voice was a humble whisper. I stood awed by her power over him. She had not touched him, not laid a finger on his manhood and yet he was utterly beguiled.

She leant over him and breathed against the tender skin. His hands clenched in the sheets and I knew he wanted to grab her head, force himself between her lips and fuck her throat until he came. Instead he lay still.

"Tell me how sorry you are Mr. Cullen." She breathed again, the soft curls at the base of his cock fluttering in her breath. He moaned a sound almost of pain.

"I am so sorry Mistress Salomé." He whispered and I swear I saw a tear fall from his eyes and drip over his cheek as he clenched his eyes tight and she breathed onto him.

"Very sorry?" she asked her breath soft against him.

"Very, very sorry. Please mistress?"

"Yes Mr. Cullen?"

"Please Mistress Salomé, please touch me." he seemed to gather his courage within his desperation and longing, "please touch me and let me come."

"Ahhhh." She breathed and he quivered again, "there's my good boy." She trailed her fingers along the length of him, copying the action she had watched him make with his own hands. Edward let out a long breath of relief as she stoked harder, faster, thumbing the sticky tip and sweeping the moisture over the length of his taut skin. He began to thrust up, against her fingers creating more and more friction. His fists balled in the sheets and his body stretched out like a wire on a piano.

"Please." He was begging, asking for her permission, even at this peak when he must be nearly wild with arousal.

"Yes." She said smiling.

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Is it warm in here???

Ok, so Mr Cullen's POV next! Now surely you want to read that? Review and it'll make me write faster!

Many thanks to the Roguettes, awesomesauce76, jrh927 (he begged!) and the all new passionmama! You keep me sane. Ish. 


	18. Chapter 18

Mr Cullen's POV

Bosie was in high spirits as we drove through the London streets to Madam Chang's.

"I do wonder what they have planned for you Eddie boy!" His glee was visible as he peered out into the wet East End streets and the rain lashed against the carriage window obscuring the light from the gas lamps. "Maybe they'll dress you in a skirt and fuck you like a girl!" He giggled, looking at me to see if I had taken his bait. I smiled back silently thinking that, if that's what Salomé desired of me this evening, then I would comply willingly. I had already decided that I would give in wholeheartedly to this experience, to give any less would have been an insult to the woman I loved. Bosie took my silence for concern and he reached over and touched my knee.

"I'm sure Lola wouldn't do that...." He trailed off, we both know she would. She had done just that on more than one occasion, with friends of ours too.

Despite my resolve to do as I was asked the evening was not without its trepidation for me and I was glad as the carriage pulled into the kerb and the dim lights of Madam Chang's lit the small windows. As I waited on the pavement Bosie paid the cabbie and with an "Ave a good evenin' gentlemen," and a wink he drove the carriage off at a clip. The horse's hooves clattered off into the night and we were left alone on the street. Bosie took my arm and pulled me out of the rain as though he thought I might escape.

Madam Chang didn't speak as we entered her house of sin. She pointed up the stairs and Bosie led the way. Once we were on the landing we could hear the muffled voices of women from the room on the left. I took off my jacket and tie, no matter what happened they would be superfluous to requirement, and Bosie tapped lightly on the door.

Lola was wearing her black kimono but her demeanour spoke of anything but frolics as she passed me the opium pipe. She was sombre, ritualistic and this air of ceremony overtook us all as I inhaled deeply of the smoke, closing my eyes to focus my mind on the night ahead. When I opened them Bosie had gone.

"Do you agree to atone for your behaviour?" Lola's words seemed to be from some ancient time and they invoked in me an air of solemnity. "Will you wear this blindfold as a symbol of your submission?" I chose not to answer her with words but by my actions. I bent my head so that she could fasten around my eyes the scarf she held in her hands. The fabric was lightly scented and the moment the fragrance reached my nostrils I knew that this was part of Salomé's costume, that this fabric had been on her skin as she had danced and whirled at the party. Before the thought had registered with my mind I felt the flicker of desire inside me. The thought of her, uninhibited and wild, the scant silk embracing her curves aroused my blood and caused it to begin a pounding in my ears. Behind the mask I felt free, free to do as I really wished, to not be held or confined by society's ideas of manliness or what was proper. It was this overwhelming feeling of emancipation which prompted me to further proclaim my acceptance of my fate.

"I am willing to submit myself to my Mistress Salomé." We entered the room.

The room was utterly silent but for the sibilant hiss of the lamps. Their light was dim and, with the blindfold, combined to transform the room into a vague underwater world, alien and indistinct. For a moment I panicked, my mind racing that this was some trick, that Salomé was nowhere to be seen and I was a dupe, a fool to believe she would accept my penance, no matter how humbly and earnestly it was given. Then a hand, I jumped at its touch, played itself lightly over the neck of my shirt, caressing my skin and began to unfasten the buttons until it fell open. I felt exposed, naked and vulnerable. Then, heaven, as her body pushed at me, her fragrance maddening my senses and her breath tickling my ear as she leaned against me.

"You've been a bad, bad man Mr Cullen." Her voice sounded amused, I could hear the half smile which would be playing about her lips. Uncertain if I was to speak, I settled for a nod, hoping that this was the correct response. I was taken aback when my shirt was ripped from my shoulders, exposing me further and trapping my arms in the sleeves and the hanging fabric. The hot air assaulted my body and I felt her eyes passing over me even though I could not see her face or form. It was then she made the most erotic sound I had ever heard. The air hissed in through her teeth, an involuntary sound made by her reaction to seeing me thus exposed. A flood of emotions washed though me in quick succession. I felt like a horse being appraised by a breeder, my body judged for its quality rather than as a man valued for his mind, his status in society. I felt like an object which was to be used for her pleasure, like the many toys which I knew Lola possessed. Instead of the revulsion I would have expected at these feelings I felt a thrill of excitement and lust.

Her hands held my arms pinioned to my sides and she pressed herself to me. She rubbed and writhed against my body. It was more than I could stand; her hard nipples and soft breasts were like fire scorching where they touched. Without realising what I was doing, I was reaching for her, reaching to pull her close to me, to crush those rosebuds against my fingers and hear her hiss with desire again. She slapped me, hard enough to sting and my hands fell away and I felt tears smart my eyes at the rejection. This was ridiculous, the saner part of my mind argued, it didn't hurt and anyway it was much less rejection than that to which she had been subjected. But my mind was not in control, not anymore. The helm of my ship was held by a much more fickle and demanding captain, his name was lust.

"Not for you." Her voice still held the note of amusement and I relaxed slightly, knowing I had not displeased her. When had this woman conjured such a change over me that I wished before all things to give her pleasure? Before I could begin to unravel that problem she spoke again. "Don't go Lola." I confess, dear reader, I had forgotten our gallant hostess entirely but then there was a rustle of fabric and I heard Salomé's voice, this time she growled with desire. My mind whirled, trying to decode what was happening, were they kissing? At that my body responded, the image searing into my mind and throbbing between my legs in an instant. What was happening? I tried to listen more closely but, frustratingly I could tell nothing beyond the whispering of silk and the throaty moaning which was driving me to distraction.

"Lola, tell Edward what you're doing to me." It was as though she could read my mind. Each fibre of my being leaned towards her voice as I heard the dark tone of lust which stained her words.

"Edward I'm running my hands over Salomé's breasts." Good God! Lola's tone was teasing and immediately my mind regaled me with an image of what I could not see with my own eyes. Salomé was moaning and sighing, her voice breathy and panting. I felt the blood pounding in my ears, racing though my body like fire. "I'm teasing each nipple with my fingers." Salomé inhaled quickly, the sound piercing me and causing me to gasp.

"Her nipples are so hard Edward, they're like little buds against my hands and when I roll them between my fingertips..." Lola's words were punctuated with more desperate cries from Salomé. In my mind's eye I saw her lithe fingers nipping and rolling Salomé's breasts. Salomé's head was thrown back and her mouth was open, her lips dark now like the tips of her nipples. "I'm going to lick her now Edward. Are you listening to her? Listen to how good this feels for her." How could I listen to this? My cock was uncomfortably pinned against my trousers, the blood beating wildly there. My arms were fixed to my sides and before me these sirens sported, tonguing and touching as I stood helplessly by. Salomé's cries grew more desperate and I fought to control my reactions.

"For God's sake!" I threw my head back, an unconscious gesture to avoid the scene before me, but the movement of their bodies, the hoarse moans and whispers flamed over me and I burned.

Cool hands ran over my chest, Salomé, still panting from Lola's touch pinched my exposed nipples. Her hands ran over me and once again I was reminded of the horse standing before the buyer. No, my mind corrected as it took its absence for the evening, a slave Edward, a slave at a slave market. As though she knew my thoughts Salomé's hands drew languidly down my body. All my concentration it seemed, my every existence, settled itself on the place between my legs. My cock throbbed and burned and I ached for her to touch me. Lower and lower they tickled and teased. I held my breath and waited, desperate and longing. Nearer and nearer, surely she must touch me? Surely she would not tease me so not to relieve this terrible yearning? Her hands swept away at the last moment. My body reacted; my mind had long ceased any attempt at control. My hips bucked forward and I heard a gentle laugh. My discomfort amused her. I still had some small scraps of pride and so I tried not to cry out as small hands pushed me and I fell.

Some part of my mind reasoned that I must have fallen onto the mattress for there was no pain with my landing but that thought was quickly driven from me by the sensation of Salomé's body pressing down upon me. She writhed against me, her legs on either side of my knees and her hot quim grinding against my painful erection. I thrust upwards, knowing that this might be as near as I would be allowed to get to her cunny. That she might amuse herself with me and never let me be satisfied, I deserved little more. Her divine scent was all about me, her hair cascading over my face and her breath hot and panting at my ear as I tried desperately to achieve some kind of release from the grip of lust which held me in her thrall. I heard growling and realised it came from my own mouth, open against her cheek as she moved over me, maddeningly close but not close enough.

"This won't be so easy Mr. Cullen, "I became still, the fight, the pride and the arrogance was gone from me utterly. With these words I knew I had been beaten by a master of the game. I would do anything; say anything to make her happy, to have her pleased with me. "Shall I have Lola fuck me here beside you? Will you listen to me as she pleasures me with her hands, with her mouth?" Could she be so cruel? This was devilish, but devilishly brilliant. It was as though she had plucked from my soul my darkest fantasies, my deepest, most secret wishes. I was grateful to her, grateful that she had planned this fantastical, deviant game for me to play. I turned towards her voice and was about to tell her that I would do anything she wished, anything she desired when her slim finger covered my lips. "If that's what I wanted, you would do this for me would you not Mr. Cullen?" I knew my answer at once. There was only one thing I could say, only one thing I wanted to say to this fascinating, dazzling woman.

"Yes mistress Salomé." There was a slashing by my sides and something cold and smooth flickered against my skin. My arms fell free at my sides and instantly I reached up to her, thinking that my penance was over. In truth, dear reader, and I blush to tell you but I felt a flash of disappointment that my torture was so soon ended but Salomé slapped each of my hands down and leaned her weight on my hands. In this moment I could have overpowered her, I could have twisted beneath her and, holding her down, I could have mounted her like the stallion out to stud that she had made me feel. Instead I let her hold me there, letting her know by my submission that I was her creature and she could do with me as she willed.

"Leave your hands on the bed until I tell you to move them. Is that clear?" I nodded, only too happy to comply with her commands and was rewarded with her hot wet mouth trailing down my body. Her soft lips and tongue stroked more fire to my body, where I had thought it impossible for me to feel any more desire. Once again she teased my flesh, dipping her head over my body, her hair lightly stroking where her mouth had left its burning kisses. I wanted to grab her, force her mouth over me, twist my fists into her hair and rub her face on my desperately hard length but I fought to keep my palms flat to the mattress.

Just as her kisses were coming dangerously close to the place in which my blood pounded, so hard that I was sure she would be able to see my pulse, she stopped. I held back a growl of frustration.

"Mr. Cullen?" I nodded quickly, hoping and yet fearing that my suffering was over. "Unbutton your trousers." I complied hastily, feeling the relief as my erection sprang free of the tight fabric, the constriction being replaced by the maddening assault of the air on my anguished skin. I heard her make a small noise, it was a wet noise and I saw in my mind her wet tongue running over her lips as she took in the sight of my defenceless and revealed desire. She lay over me, not touching me where I urgently wished to be touched. Her mouth was at my ear and at her next words I trembled with dread and longing. "Touch yourself," I couldn't do it, I could not lie before her so exposed and have her watch me as a pleasured myself. God! What could I do? This was too much, a step too far. To be thus humiliated... excited me. With a fearful resignation I acknowledged this last thought to be true. I was excited by the prospect of my humiliation, of her witnessing me in my most private and open state. "Touch yourself," her teeth caught at my ear, it was still bloody from the night before and the pain stung through me, igniting in the throbbing of my hard cock. "Imagine your hands are my hands."

I knew she had given me the smallest slackening of the rope. That she was allowing me to use the image of her hands to guide my own. Gratitude washed over me. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut as I imagined how her hands would feel. I felt my body twitch as my fingers neared that part of me which had been so exquisitely tortured. My hand fisted around my hard length and the relief was more than I could bear. I felt my climax building already and I fought to keep my hands slow and measured as I continued to imagine Salomé's delicate fingers instead of my own broad palms. Unbidden my mouth opened and I moaned and growled with the feeling of her hands caressing my most sensitive skin. I rubbed my thumb over the tip of my cock, feeling the evidence of my arousal and moaning all the more that I knew that she would see it to. The sweet pressure was mounting inside me, threatening to snuff me out with its enormity. Her hands wrapped over mine and for a moment it seemed our fingers merged and became one but she was not touching me, I knew that, and yet I thrust into my hand as though it was her own.

"Stop." No, not now. I could not, would not stop. My movements became more frantic, losing their rhythm in desperation. "Stop Mr. Cullen, " I flung my hand away, knowing that if I had not moved it from me in that instant it would have been impossible to stop. I felt a moan building in my throat and I let it out, marvelling at the anguish and pain in the sound which I had uttered. She leant over me, her breath gentle on my face as I panted like a drowning man. The fire in my loins was blazing through me with a heat which threatened to consume me.

"You want to please me don't you?" Her wet tongue ran over my throat. There was nothing I could do. Each movement of her breath against me had me imagining her mouth on my cock, every gesture she made translating and transporting itself in my mind to the eight inches of ache pounding between my legs.

"Good." She carefully knelt over me, her knees to each side of my head and her quim only inches above my mouth. Her scent was overpowering, tantalising and visceral. Each breath seared her perfume through my lungs. I felt my heart hammering beneath her bottom as she perched upon my chest.

"Lola is going to touch my breasts, aren't you Lola darling? And while she touches my breasts with those nimble fingers you're going to give me pleasure with your mouth." I sucked in a breath, not daring to move. I felt Lola settle behind Salomé, her wet cunny pressing against my chest. The image this created in my mind was so startlingly erotic that, for a moment, I was at a loss to move to fulfil Salomé's wishes. She wriggled towards me, positioning herself before my mouth.

I raised my head slightly and put out my tongue. This was like worshipping a goddess and my mouth was my only way to express my devotion. First I lay the flat of my tongue along her quim, pressing the soft lips together and pushing them apart to reveal their treasure. From experience I knew that too teasing a touch or too coarse a movement could be unpleasant for the recipient and I inwardly thanked Lola for the lessons she had painstakingly given to me. Salomé sighed and her knees relaxed against my shoulders drawing her quim closer to me and the delicate lips further apart. The blindfold did not hinder me in my task, rather they enhanced my technique. So blinded I had to imagine and feel carefully my way to her pearl. I ran the flat of my tongue once again over her, dipping the tip gently inside her as I passed her opening. Her desire slicked my chin and dripped onto my chest and her scent was like some tropical flower, dark and heady. As my tongue reached her delicately hard nub I began to lap a gentle rhythm. I moved my tongue with the beat of the blood in my body, energy thrumming through her down into me and thumping in the pulse of my erection. The contrast of the heat of her body and the absence of touch at my cock was maddening. She began to move against me and I changed my rhythm and direction. I swirled my tongue in a figure of eight which only brushed her urgent desire with every second stroke. I stopped and dipped my tongue inside her again, feeling her tremble above me. Figure of eight, dip, figure of eight, dip. I repeated this devotion like a prayer, willing my longing and desire into my actions.

Her hands fisted in my hair and she took control of the pace, grinding her cunny onto my lips, forcing me harder against her. Gasping I quickened my pace and pushed against her, feeling her slippery and hard under my tongue. Lola was bucking against my skin and the image in my brain of them both, along with the taste of Salomé's desire on my lips, the wild moaning coming from her as she rode against me was very nearly my undoing. I bucked and writhed with them, hoping against hope for some release. I felt her muscles spasm and her body became limp with repletion.

I felt Lola move away and Salomé swing her legs to the side of the bed. I thrust with my hips, the movement no longer voluntary. She ran her hands down my body as though to quieten a race horse. They fluttered at my hips and I heard myself cry out but I was too far gone now to care.

"You've been very good, bad Mr. Cullen." She took my hand and allowed me to touch the wet tip of my cock. I groaned, unable to stop the noise as it escaped the torture of my body. She moved my palm, stroking me with my own fingers, toying with me beyond endurance. She curled herself by me on the bed, her soft head on my hip. She was so near my aching hardness that I could feel her breath as she spoke the next words. "Would you like me to touch you?"

"Yes Mistress Salomé. Very much." I had nothing left to give her but myself, my utter and complete compliance to her will.

Her breath caressed me; I could almost feel her lips on my tortured, sensitive skin. I grabbed the sheets in both hands, forcing them by sheer will to remain on the mattress. I wanted to take her, to force her lips apart with my fingers and plunge myself between them.

"Tell me how sorry you are Mr. Cullen." Her breath was hot against me; it fanned the already searing flame which consumed my being. I moaned, wordlessly and desperate. My mind raced trying to gather the words which would please her.

"I am so sorry Mistress Salomé." She breathed again, so tantalisingly close and it was all I could do to hold back. I felt tears sting my eyes as the force of the blood in my swollen manhood thumped like a primal drumbeat.

"Very sorry?" Each word carried on that hot breath was torture, seconds became years and I twisted on the edge of madness and lust.

"Very, very sorry." What could I say to appease her? How could I express my absolute desire to please her? I used the only words now left to me. "Please mistress?"

"Yes Mr. Cullen?" Oh God, she was going to make me say it. I couldn't, I couldn't. But God, my cock pounded and my blood roared in my ears. I had to; I had to say it, out loud.

"Please Mistress Salomé, please touch me." It wasn't going to be enough. I racked my brain for more words, words which could convey this extraordinary, exquisite pain to which she had brought me. "Please touch me and let me come."

"Ahhhh." Her sigh rushed over my tortured skin and I trembled with the force of this place to which she had delivered me. "There's my good boy." Her hands, those blessed light fingers, stroked the length of me, thumbing the tip of me, smearing my swollen cock with its own moisture. They were the hands of angels, the hands of a goddess and I was so grateful. So dumb with longing and pleasure and gratitude that I had no words, only actions to show my feelings. I thrust against her fingers, feeling their sweet friction as she closed her fist over and around me. I had to show her, show her my gratitude for her kindness to me. Express my happiness that she had allowed me to atone. I used the only word I had left.

"Please." Her hand paused for a moment but, before my life could crash around me, she resumed that maddening, glorious, heavenly stroking.

"Yes." Her voice was happy and it combined with my antagonised flesh and brought me to a hard, primal, fierce release. My body curled up and I felt the convulsions which accompanied my liberation shake me to my very soul.

********************

Phew!!! I think I deserve this piece of banoffee pie don't you?

Was it boring because you knew what was going to happen? Was he thinking what you thought he was thinking? Please let me know because it's just so great to be able to share with all you Roguettes!!

As always I have to thank Awesomesauce76 for being a true friend and supporter, Jrh927 for sharing her first viewing of Little Ashes with me and the lovely ladies on the Twilight_obsessors yahoo group for their help with technicalities *wink*.

Next stop Salomé's brain!! Anyone coming with us? (Pun intended)


	19. Chapter 19

Happy tenth anniversary Kelly!!!

Salome's POV

It was only when I heard Bosie's quiet knock that actual fear gripped me. The fantasy of the evening, shimmering in the poppy smoke shifted suddenly to a sharp reality. I was beginning to wonder if I should go now, before my inexperience and naivety began to show, as I heard the muffled voices outside. I felt like a new bride waiting for her husband or a damsel in a gothic novel, awaiting her demise. Enough of that, the woman in the mirror reprimanded me curtly. There was no time for misgivings she reminded, this was my decision and I had accepted this fate the morning after my first visit to this room. I shook myself and took a quick breath of the pipe's curling smoke. The bubbling of fear melted into the whisper of anticipation. I could do this; this was who I had become.

The door opened and Lola led him in. He was blindfolded and this vulnerability touched me. He held Lola's hand trustingly like a child. There was something in his posture which gave me confidence, he wanted Salomé as much as she wanted him. His shirt was open at the neck and I saw his gently curled hairs of his chest and I longed to touch him. I reached out my hand and caressed the skin where it was revealed by the open buttons. He winced at first, shocked by my touch but I stroked him gently, playing my fingers lightly over his chest. The tiny pearl buttons fell away at my hands, revealing his skin, pale and warm and the muscles which shaped his torso. I was entranced by the sight of him, I had never seen a man so uncovered and I took a long look at my prize.

His nipples were dark pink and the hair curled around them in tighter clusters than the lazy whorls which snaked down his body. His navel was almost hidden by those curls which continued down beneath the waistband of his dress trousers. I ran my fingers down, tracing the forbidden path down his body. I pressed myself against him, flattening my soft breasts against his hard chest, desperate to feel his warmth. His ear was by my mouth, I should speak, I thought. But what to say?

"You've been a bad, bad man Mr Cullen." I smiled at my cheek repeating his words back to him, words he had used in this very room. He looked as though he might reply but then he merely nodded. Were we both nervous? For a second I was unsure of how to proceed. Should I undress him? I began to pull his shirt down over his back, the fabric gathering at his waist, trapping his hands. It would be awkward now to take off the shirt, to have him raise his arms like a child and I found myself quite aroused by the way the shirt sleeves held him captive. They forced him to push his shoulders back, pushing his chest towards me, defenceless and bare. The thought ran through me and sent a jolt of fire between my legs, lighting me up like the lanterns in the room. Involuntarily I took a breath, it hissed through my closed mouth and I was surprised by my own burgeoning lust. With that breath I sealed the fate or Miss Isabella Swan forever and became Salomé.

Running my hands up his body, over his shoulders I pushed myself against him. Rubbing my hard nipples over his chest, feeling the curls tormenting my tender skin in a most delightful way. I became bold, writhing against him, using him for my pleasure. This was what I had wanted, I realised, I wanted him to surrender, to be used as he had doubtless used many women. His hands reached for me and, in my new role of self serving adventuress, I slapped them away harshly.

"Not for you!" I commanded. Lola turned to leave and I felt a wave of apprehension capsize me. Lola was my totem, my friend. I wanted her to stay, to guide me if I lost my way in this game. "Don't go Lola." I grabbed her hand and held it in my own. While she is here...a wicked voice whispered to me and I guided her hand to my breast, feeling her soft fingers close about my hard nipple. I sighed as the flames licked once again at my body. I rubbed myself against Lola's hand. Edward was leaning forward straining to know what was happening. Why shouldn't we tell him? Surely this would increase his torment? "Lola, tell Edward what you're doing to me."

This time the gasp came from Edward and Lola and I both watched his body's reaction to the statement. Lola smiled and began to fondle my breasts more insistently; earning more sighs and moans as I felt my body coming alive under her touch and at the sight of Edward's obvious arousal at our sport.

"Edward I'm running my hands over Salomé's breasts." I groaned as her words and her fingers combined to excite me. "I'm teasing each nipple with my fingers. "She nipped my delicate flesh and I gasped for breath, so intense was the pleasure she was creating in my body. Edward's breath was gasping too and the straining bulge of his manhood stood painfully before him as stiff as an iron rod. I risked a glance at his arousal. How perfect he looked, how tortured and strained as he panted, his chest heaving and his body arched towards us.

"Her nipples are so hard Edward, they're like little buds against my hands and when I roll them between my fingertips..." I knew my throat was uttering sounds but I was captivated by Edward. The soft groans and sighs from his open mouth, the way his body was bent taut like a bow ready to shoot an arrow. His arms jerked forward as he tried to make some action which would ease his struggle but the shirt held him tightly. His restrained position and the blindfold created a kind of fascinating web for me and, although Lola was eliciting in me great waves of desire, I could not tear my eyes from his bound figure. Lola bent her head to my breasts. "I'm going to lick her now Edward. Are you listening to her? Listen to how good this feels for her." She put out her tongue and pressed it against me. Through the silk her mouth worked at my nipple, first one and then the other. The silk was like a maddening extra skin, tantalising thin but maddeningly in the way. I grabbed Lola's hair, forcing her nearer to me in my desperation. She moaned into my skin, the humming vibration quivering through me, stoking my fire even further. She held my hips and writhed against me, her breath now panting, just as mine was, Edward's breath sounding a deeper echo to our own.

"For God's sake!" Edward threw back his head, his body twisting in its desire. I had to touch him again; I had to feel his body against me.

I felt my body protest as I moved from Lola's maddening touches and gestured to her that we should manoeuvre him nearer to the mattress. She smiled as he flinched at her touch. Watching her hand on his skin only made me want to touch him more. I ran my hands over his chest, pinching his nipples as Lola had done with mine. I knew that to me her touch had felt divine and I hoped that it would feel the same to Edward. It did, he thrust forward with his hips, the action seeming to be beyond his control and he growled in his throat. Encouraged by this reaction I ran my hands down his body, not daring to touch the impressive swelling of his manhood but sweeping my hands near to it, circling him in a manner I hoped would be arousing. I was delighted by his response to my ministrations. He thrust again; a bucking, involuntary motion and I saw the fabric moist over the tip of him, moulding the dark material to his shape so that I could see the head of his erection, each curve and vein.

I pushed him lightly and he fell back onto the mattress. My next move was without a thought. I lay along his body, feeling that delightful hardness as I placed one leg on either side of him. It pushed against me and I rubbed myself along it, feeling the exquisite perfection of our bodies fitting together. I had been afraid of him, of his cock; I tried the word in my mind and found a frisson of lust shiver through me, but now I threw away those fears and let my passions guide me. As my body wriggled and pushed against him, eager for more friction, more touching of skin to skin, my mind savoured the moment. I savoured the feel of him, bound and aroused beneath me, my new found power and the knowledge that words could do as much as deeds in this game of sexuality. I felt my release rising and I held back, determined now to make the most of my captive. I moved from his body, lying to the side of him. His breath was rasping and his body still trembled with desire.

"This won't be so easy Mr. Cullen, "I used my new knowledge, my new words with deliberation. "Shall I have Lola fuck me here beside you? Will you listen to me as she pleasures me with her hands, with her mouth?" He turned to me his mouth open and I put my finger to his lips as one does with a child. I pushed my advantage "If that's what I wanted, you would do this for me would you not Mr. Cullen?" The moment stretched out between us. It felt as though I could see the machinations of his mind; hear the argument between his body, his ego and his love for me. Then he spoke and I knew which of the parties had won.

"Yes mistress Salomé." I felt myself smile, the expression one of genuine happiness which did not seem at odds with our unusual situation. Taking the knife with which Lola had cleaned the opium pipe I cut the sleeves of his shirt away with one movement, freeing his arms. Instantly he moved and I pushed his hands flat to the mattress. There was the faintest struggle, the whisper of his pride asserting itself against the command of a woman and then he lay still. I knew the power in those fingers, those hands. They had pried my grip from his leg most cruelly and now they lay passive and submissive under my light touch.

"Leave your hands on the bed until I tell you to move them. Is that clear?" I ran my mouth down his chest. His skin tasted of salt and the dark muskiness of his body. My senses drank him in, his taste, his smell, the feeling of his skin under my lips and tongue. I realised with a start I was moving down his body, down to where his cock stretched tight the material of his dress trousers, now wrinkled and dishevelled. I wanted to touch him, desperately wanted to feel him move beneath my hand or my mouth but I had no idea what to do. How did one go about this? I didn't want to hurt him or, worse still, undo all my hard work with a clumsy gesture. I looked at Lola, she was watching us intently, her cheeks flushed with her own desire, her hand against her body as she touched herself unconsciously. Then the perfect solution came to me. I sat up and Edward groaned beneath me, realising that I had changed my mind.

"Mr. Cullen?" He nodded quickly, his urge to please me spurred on by his mounting desire. "Unbutton your trousers." He unbuttoned his trousers hastily. His cock, freed from the material stood out. It was smooth and the skin stretched over him looked like silk. I longed to touch him to feel the pulse I could see throbbing though him. Unconsciously I ran my tongue over my lips and he moaned in response which only caused me to want to touch him even more. He would have to show me how. I leant over him, careful not to brush his hard length with my body. "Touch yourself," he didn't respond but, instead of the fear I had felt before when he had hesitated, now I felt in command. "Touch yourself," I said more firmly taking his ear lobe in my mouth and nipping him with my teeth. The tang of blood broke over my tongue. He whimpered and I relented slightly allowing him a semblance of pretend to soften the humiliation of what I required him to do. "Imagine your hands are my hands."

Mesmerised, I watched his hand creep over his hipbones and stroke gently along his body. A hiss escaped his lips as he ran his hands up, over the delicate skin and rubbed at the tip of his hard cock with his thumb. His movements were slow and deliberate and I paid attention to the valuable lesson he was giving me. This was how to pleasure him, now two hands together, one at the base and one over the tip stroking in unison, squeezing gently with every stroke. The movement became more urgent, harder squeezing and his breath came harsh in his throat. I did not want him to come to release, not yet, not like this. I put out my hand.

"Stop." He didn't hear me, pumping his fists now, fast and tight over his swollen member. "Stop Mr. Cullen. " He threw his hands to the sides, as though burnt by the heat of his desire and a terrible, tortured groan came from his lips. I needed to remind him of why he was here. I leant over him, his body still bucking beneath me.

"You want to please me don't you?" I asked him gently. He could refuse but I knew he wouldn't he nodded again, whimpering at my tongue licking his neck.

"Good." I said, more confidently than I had felt. This was the only part of the game which I had 'planned' and so was the part I had both dreaded and longed for in equal measure. If I was to see this though I must be brave. I sat astride his body. His mouth so near to my person that I could feel his breath against the curls between my legs.

"Lola is going to touch my breasts, aren't you Lola darling?" She smiled to me and settled herself behind me, her hands reaching forward to grasp my body. A gasp of pleasure escaped my lips "And while she touches my breasts with those nimble fingers you're going to give me pleasure with your mouth."

Lola's hands had begun to stoke my fire and now Edward put his tongue to my most private parts. I felt myself open to his mouth and the delicious tingle of his soft tongue against my kernel of desire. It felt hard against him and he swirled his tongue against me and the waves of pleasure lapped at my body as his tongue lapped between my legs. The rhythm of his mouth and the nimble, nipping fingers of Lola sent shivers through me; I felt my thighs, slick with my desire as my hips thrust against Edward's mouth as he brought me nearer and nearer to release. I fisted my hand into his hair bringing him closer and grabbing Lola's head to crush her against me. The marvellous feeling of being joined washed over me and the image of our three bodies so combined, Edward's mouth at my quim with his cock standing up, desperate for my touch, Lola's hands on my breasts as she twisted and teased so aroused me that I felt myself crashing on the wave of pleasure and I was held in that divine place for a moment before my panting body feel back to earth.

With some reluctance I swung myself from Edward's body. He lay gasping, his lips glistening with my arousal. I felt so proud of him and proud of myself. I had conquered my fears, my inhibitions and conquered this man and his arrogant pride.

"You've been very good, bad Mr. Cullen." I took his big hand in my own and used it to stroke along his hard cock. He moaned as I stroked him with his own fingers. I lay with my head on his hip, drinking in the sight and the scent of him, amazed at the perfection of his body. "Would you like me to touch you?"

"Yes Mistress Salomé. Very much." He was so sweet in his submission, I could have cried. He was waiting for me to speak, to answer his proclaimed obedience. His hands grabbed the mattress but stayed at his sides. The effort of his compliance showing on his face, in the tendons in his hands.

"Tell me how sorry you are Mr. Cullen." I breathed against his skin, was it so sensitive? Would my breath inflame him as his had done to me? He moaned and I knew the answer.

"I am so sorry Mistress Salomé." I played him out a little longer, fascinated by my control over him, unwilling to give up this new power so easily.

"Very sorry?" I breathed again, his hairs trembling in my words.

"Very, very sorry." He was so good; I was ready to give in to him, to let him have what he craved so much. Before I could move he spoke again. "Please mistress?"

"Yes Mr. Cullen?" What was he going to say? Was he going to recant, to take back all his gentle compliance? I hardly dared to breathe.

"Please Mistress Salomé, please touch me." My mouth fell open. I had not expected this, this utter and complete subjection to my will. "Please touch me and let me come."

"Ahhhh." Gratitude and arousal at his words swam over me. He was giving me himself, all of himself, keeping nothing back in his wish to please me. "There's my good boy." At last I touched him. My fingers marvelling at the taut, silken skin, the contrast of hard and soft, the heat and the pulse beating though his length. I smoothed my thumb over the tip as he had shown me, smearing him with his own arousal. His breathing was hitched in his throat, ragged and gasping as I began to increase the pressure of my fingers, the rhythm of my movements.

"Please." I stopped for a moment and drank in this vision before me. This perfect man, so sublime in his form that he was fashioned like a classical god, stretched out beneath my hands begging for his release.

What could I say but "Yes." Almost instantly, as though this was a magical word, the awakening of Sleeping Beauty, the 'Open Sesame' of Aladdin, his body curled towards me and with three hard thrusts he came. The sight of his release, the arc of his body mirrored by the arc of the fluid which spilled from of him was like witnessing the ascent of an angel or the rising of the sun.

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Ok, I've written this through a blinding headache and a rubbish couple of days so please be kind.

Was Salomé's thinking what you expected her to be thinking? Does out blossoming Dominatrix hold more credibility now? Please send me a review and let me know how you found your voyeuristic evening!!

Thank you to the lovely awesomesauce76 (go and write another chapter woman!) to Jrh927 who deserves some Rogueward style submission! To chandler1200 for the rock convert and the pervy distractions and to the Twilight Tuesday ladies for their dedication to the cause!!


	20. Chapter 20

For Michele, who likes it best when they talk!

Miss Swan's POV

If I had had any doubts as to how I should behave once the evening was over they were quickly assuaged by Laura's conversation in the carriage on the way back to her house.

"So, that was fun," she smiled wryly at me and then she laughed. "I like your style, Salome." She bowed her head slightly and I laughed too. Passing me her ubiquitous hipflask she carried on. "We should go into town tomorrow and buy you a dress suitable for your first public appearance as the young lady on Mr Cullen's' arm." Even though we had spent a most intimate evening together I still felt a tremor of delight at the idea of being on Edward's arm in public. I looked out for the carriage window as the sun started to tinge the rooftops of London gold with its fingers of dawn.

The next day we busied ourselves in a variety of outfitters establishments. For lunch we met Constance at the Savoy and she continued with us on our expedition to find me 'just the right gloves' as Laura put it.

"I think it's wonderful that Mr Cullen has mended his ways, "Constance smiled at me and I tried hard not to catch Laura's gaze for I knew I should laugh. " I do hope that he will continue to tread the right path now that you are here to guide him," at this she put out her hand and patted my knee affectionately.

"I have heard some simply frightful stories about him," murmured Laura in a shocked voice, her hand covering her mouthy in a gesture of modesty which I knew was to stifle her mirth. "I personally have never seen him behave in a manner I would consider inappropriate, however." I looked out of the carriage window, hoping Constance could not see the smile on my lips. If she did she must have taken in for the blushes of a young lady discussing her latest suitor.

The excursion was successful and Constance and I watched while our bags and boxes were placed precariously onto the carriage before alighting. Laura waved us off but not before mentioning that I might see her later that evening. As the carriage dashed us to Tithe St I wondered at her comment.

We could hear men's voices coming from the white parlour room as we entered the house. Even before Libby told us who the visitor was I recognised Edward's voice. Constance and I looked at each other and without a word we perched on the stairs in a most unladylike manner to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"As her father's representative I must consider your reputation Edward," this was Oscar and he sounded far more authoritarian than I had heard him before. Constance raised her eyebrows at me and shrugged.

"Oscar, you have my solemn word that no harm will befall her while she is with me!" Edward's voice was earnest and he sounded young in his pleading. Constance's eyebrows rose a little more and she clapped her hands together silently in a gesture of glee. I stifled a giggle with my hand.

"Are you intentions honourable Edward? And I ask this knowing full well of the extent of some of your intentions." Oscar's voice softened and I could hear the love he bore Edward in his tone. He wanted to believe him but he also knew of Edward's repute. There was silence for a moment and I clutched Constance's arm in terror. Perhaps Edward would give up; maybe he would leave and never see me again? My heart froze in my breast and then he spoke again.

"Oscar I love her." The statement was so bare of extraneous complication, so simple in its honesty that tears sprang to my eyes and I looked to Constance to see her similarly moved by his admission. So emotional was I that I nearly didn't hear his next statement. "I've written to her father and asked for his blessing to marry her." Constance's mouth was a wide 'O' of astonishment and we gazed at each other for a long moment, frozen on the stairs. There was movement inside the room and the door began to open. We jumped up from our vantage spot and, we hoped, appeared to have just arrived in the hall when Oscar's final words came to us through the crack in the door.

"Edward, that's one of the cleverest things I've ever heard you say."

He looked out of the door to see Constance and I surrounded by an array of boxes and parcels.

"Ah just the young lady in question," he said with mock severity. "Have you ever seen 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' Miss Swan?" Dumbly I shook my head. "Then prepare yourself for a night in the Athenian wood my dear! Mr Cullen is going to accompany you to the theatre this evening!" I dared to lift my eyes to Edward's and took a long breath. His face was beaming as if his joy at seeing me was so enormous that it might burst out of his sparkling eyes and spill out of his grinning mouth.

"Miss Swan, "he gave a short bow. I was still silent and started when Constance elbowed me sharply.

"Er.... please call me Isabella Mr. Cullen." I stammered as he raised his head and caught me again with that amber gaze.

"Isabella," I watched his lips and tongue enunciate my name and felt a ripple of desire go through my body. I knew that mouth so well and yet this was the first time he had spoken my Christian name. I felt a blush gathering, he saw it too and he smiled broadly. "Then you must call me Edward."

"Edward," I tried the name out loud, remembering all too well what had happened the last time I had said the word to him. He smiled at me again and it wasn't until I heard Oscar chuckle that I realised we were standing in the hallway smiling at each other like two silly mooncalves.

"Until this evening then, "he swept a low bow and I breathed in the cinnamon and toffee scent of his hair.

My heart was pounding in my breast as I watched the parlour clock tick its way to mark the hour of eight. I remembered my Juliet all too well and had been thinking of her lines "Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo" when there was knock on the door so loud I nearly squealed aloud and fell from the sofa. Libby entered a moment later and behind her I could see Laura, her eyes shining as she took in my outfit for the evening. It was a midnight blue and set with tiny pearl buttons from the high neck to the sweep of the waist, the silk of the bodice gave way just above my breasts to lace of a similar hue which was scattered with tiny brilliants. My best corset nipped in my waist and elegant, deep blue gloves covered me, elbows to my fingertips. A small hat decorated with a single peacock feather and a short cape finished the ensemble and the dress twinkled and glittered like the night sky when I moved. Even the hand-stitched leather boots were blue and I was delighted every time I saw them flash from under the wide skirts as I walked to the carriage. Eagerly looking inside as I was disappointed to find it empty. Laura laughed at my look of dismay as she sat down opposite me and held onto the leather strap as the carriage set off at a tremendous lick down the cobbled street.

"The boys are meeting us at the theatre, darling." She laughed and I sat back relieved and not a little scared by the pace and sway of the carriage. "Hold on tight dear, I hate to drive slowly!" she laughed again. There was little chance for any more conversation and soon we reached the marble steps of the theatre. Ladies and gentlemen were making their way inside and I recognised a few faces from Laura's party and Lady Alice's recital. They nodded to us, acknowledging us as their equals and I was struck again how much Mama would have loved to see me rubbing shoulders with the English aristocracy. This thought led to Edward's mention of writing to Papa and I rushed to catch up with Laura who was making her way inside.

"Laura! Edward told Oscar he had written to Papa!" I gasped as the exertion from running in my corset caused me to breathe heavily. She turned to me her eyes glittering with delight and hugged me fiercely to her.

"Well done!" she breathed into my ear. "Oh bloody well done Isabella!" I had never heard Laura use such words before and I laughed at this as she lead me up the stairs and through one of the doors which indicated we would be watching the play from a box. The lights were already dimming as we stepped inside, in the gloom I saw Edward and Bosie standing together. At our arrival Bosie pulled a seat back for Laura and Edward followed suit with the chair nearest to him. It was so dark that only the light from the stage allowed me to see what I was doing. Edward's teeth glinted wickedly in the dim light and the golden hue of his hair seemed more pronounced in the gloom.

"Isabella," he whispered as I took the seat and he pushed it gently forward until it lay flush against his own. I began to remove my gloves, putting the first in my small bag until his hand over mine stopped my actions. Slowly, his eyes never leaving mine he pulled at each of the glove's fingertips, loosening the silk from my hands. He rolled the sleeve of the glove over my skin as though he was removing a stocking. The heat from his hands and the gentle touch of his fingers over the delicate hairs of my arm began a thrumming of excitement between us. He gently pulled the glove away, following its movement with his fingers, as he stroked my skin. His fingertips lingered on the tender skin stretched between my fingers and he rubbed his thumb lazily over my palm, his eyes never once leaving mine. The gesture was so like the movement of his thumb the night before as he had caressed himself and later as _I_ had caressed _him_ that I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest like a bird beating against the bars of a cage. His mouth turned upwards slightly and I knew our thoughts were the same. He bent his head slowly, so achingly slowly that I stopped breathing; all my consciousness focussed on my hands and his soft mouth. I felt his breath first, gentle against my fingers and then his warm lips as they pressed to my skin. My breath was heavy and I began to feel faint. Then his tongue flicked out and he gently licked the place between my fingers. The gesture was so erotic, so utterly compelling, that I thought I might die at any moment. He lifted his head and smiled right at me. I tried to breathe again and he turned back to the stage as the performers were beginning the scene.

The play could hardly have opened on more appropriate scene. Theseus and Hippolyta were discussing their forthcoming nuptials. Theseus was all eagerness to have the ceremony over and his wife in the marriage bed. The actress playing his Amazon queen feigned coyness but her roaming hands showed that she too was eager for the wedding night. The audience laughed at their posturing and I felt Edward chuckling at the scene with them. I risked a glance at him beside me. He was watching the performance intently but something in his expression caused me to wonder. It was then I felt his hand upon my knee.

I was amazed by his boldness and that thought was chased from my mind by the remberance of my own boldness the night before. But this was different I feebly protested as Salomé's smile swam before my eyes, mocking me for my ersatz prudery, last night I wasn't... myself I ended lamely. Salomé nodded, yes this was different she agreed, this time it was Edward who held the cards and I was just a young woman in a private box at the theatre. My eyes flicked to Bosie and Laura but they seemed engrossed in the play, now Hermia and Egeus were arguing on stage, although the smile which played about Laura's lips did not seem all that innocent.

Meanwhile during my musings, Edward's hand had tightened its slight grip on my leg and was moving further from my knee, towards my body. His eyes still watched the play and to any onlooker he would have seemed quite the innocent. I, however, knew the difference. As Lysander spoke his lines 'The course of true love never did run smooth.' Edward turned to me and my breath caught in my throat. There was such an intense expression on his face that I was quite captivated and I sat perfectly still as he leant towards me and whispered in my ear.

"Do you remember where this hand was last night dear Isabella?" my eyes grew wide and he gave my leg a little squeeze and ran his thumb suggestively over the silk of my skirts so that a sibilant hissing came from the material. His eyes had not left mine and I nodded mutely. "So do I." He whispered and he licked his lips very slowly. The sight of his wet tongue brought back more memories of the night before, as he no doubt wished it would, and he chuckled darkly. His hand slid higher, now he was gripping my thigh and the throbbing between my legs was increasing with each small movement of his thumb against the inside of my leg. He turned back to the play.

Through swimming eyes and with a whirling brain I tried to focus on the play. The 'rude mechanicals' were prancing and cavorting on the stage and the audience were roaring with laughter at their antics. I was just about to laugh too, Edward's hand on my leg had ceased its movements and I was sucked into the scene with Bottom and his friends vying for the parts in the marriage play. Edward's hand slid along my thigh until it rested over the juncture between my legs, his thumb pushing against the fabric and creating a maddening pressure. I began to breathe heavily and I feared someone would hear me but Laura and Bosie seemed oblivious to our movements, almost too oblivious.

"I can feel the blood pulsing in your cunny," Edward's whisper thrilled through me like a brushfire. My heart caught in my throat as he breathed the last word gently against my ear. "I know that your nipples will be hard against the stuff of your corset Isabella, I'd love to roll them with my fingertips, my tongue." At this he licked my ear slowly and seductively. I shuddered under his touch, arching my back and pushing forward with my hips in a most involuntary fashion. I heard him laugh quietly. "You like it when I speak to you thus? When I tell you I long to part those long, fine legs of yours and run my fingers over your wet quim, dipping them inside you until you spend yourself on my hands." I squirmed in my seat, forgetting to care if Laura or Bosie or any of the audience, for that matter, could see what he was doing to me. His thumb rubbed insistently and I wished with all my heart that the fabric which kept that touch from me might be absent. The maddeningly slight friction over my most sensitive flesh was driving me to distraction.

"I can see how aroused you are Isabella," his voice was low and seductive and my breath rasped loud in my ears. "I'd love to taste it." He paused, waiting for the inevitable small moan which escaped my lips. I fought to be silent but his thumb was tracing faint circles over me and I thought I might faint. "I'd love to stroke my tongue over you again. Do you remember how that felt Isabella? How soft and gentle it was at first and then how it grew harder and faster as you thrust your hips against my face and grabbed my hair?" I was nearly there, the play, Laura and Bosie and the audience, damn them, forgotten in my haze of lust as I blindly thrust for his fingers. His thumb pressed harder against me and I felt the tide rising inside me, hot and implacable. "And one day Isabella, one day soon it won't just be my fingers and my tongue at your quim." A breath a heartbeat and he stopped, I teetered on the edge of madness all of my awareness focussed on his hand between my legs. "It will be my hard, stiff cock." I came then with all the force of a dam wall breaking. I fell back in my seat, my eyes closed and my thighs clamped on his hand. He moved slightly forward, as though to see the stage and shielded me from view.

When the beat of my heart subsided and my breath became more normal I opened my eyes. Edward was looking at me, his eyebrows raised.

"An excellent first act don't you think?" he asked archly.

The lights in the theatre came up and Edward pulled back my chair and I took his arm. I was sure that Laura and Bosie knew what had been happening but they chatted on about the actors as if they had seen nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing that gave them away was the cheeky wink Laura gave me as she turned on Bosie's arm to descend the stairs to the bar.

I floated down those stairs, Edward's arm grasped in my hand and his other hand gently at my waist. The intoxication of the last few moments seemed to infuse the air and I took the glass of champagne Bosie handed to me oblivious to the glances of the other people in the room.

"Oooh the green eyed monster is in evidence tonight," hissed Laura, pointing discretely to where Lady Alice and some of her friends were looking over at us with frank jealousy in their eyes. Edward heard her whisper and smiled to the group of ladies who fluttered their eyelashes and flushed a few shades pinker at his attentions. Turning to me he put his mouth to my ear.

"And none of them will ever make me beg as you do, my Mistress." All the tension, the desire which I had thought sated rose again in me and he pulled back to smile dazzlingly into my eyes. Over his shoulder Alice and her friends glowered at me. I smiled sweetly.

Once our drinks were finished we resumed our seats and the play began again. Edward amused me, pointing out noted celebrities in the audience and laughing as Bosie and Laura counted out their conquests who sat unknowingly in the dark. As they argued over the numbers, Edward took my hand in his and rested it lightly on his knee. It was my turn to play a game.

I tickled my fingers along the length of his thigh until I could feel the fabric stretching against his arousal and hear the breath quick in his throat. I continued to tease and flutter my hands and he gripped it firmly in his own and brought it roughly in contact to where his swollen member strained against the wool of his trousers. He leant towards me.

"Any more of that and we'll have to go outside." I smiled winningly and tickled my hand further. He stifled a groan in his throat and pushed my hand away. For a moment I was crestfallen but then Laura leant towards us, her gaze never leaving the action on stage. From the corner of her mouth she whispered.

"Later, at Chang's!" Edward laughed and Laura grinned us a wicked grin.

"Later, at Chang's." I agreed bringing my hand to my lap to hold my programme for the performance and my small bag like a proper young lady.

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So, I'm off to London for the rest of the week and I love a cliff-hanger, don't you?

Want to come to Chang's with us after the play? Leave me a review and I'll see you there!!

Thanks to the unusually awesome Awesomesauce76, Jrh927 and the twilighted obsesser girls!!


	21. Chapter 21

Mr Cullen's POV

I had no intention of waiting until Madam Chang's for my opportunity to satisfy my desires. Outside the theatre people and cabbies swarmed together. As we neared the kerb my own hansom pulled up beside me and I grabbed Isabella's hand. Her conversation with Laura ended abruptly as she was propelled by my grasp onto the leather seat opposite me, cushions flying. Without waiting for Laura and Bosie I slammed the door and banged loudly on the carriage roof, shouting from the window for the driver to take a long route to the East End and for Laura and Bosie to follow in their own cab. A look of outrage whirled on Laura's face but abruptly was gone. She laughed and waved us off. I turned to face Isabella, she was arranging her skirts and holding on to the leather strap which swung from the roof of the carriage. I smiled at her and watched her eyes widen as she realised we were alone.

"Edward..." she stammered but I allowed no further discussion. At once my mouth was on hers and I savoured her sweet breath and soft lips as I crushed them in a kiss. One hand held her head and with the other I ran my fingers lightly over the place at her breast where the lace and silk met in a delightfully forbidden line. I could feel her breath trembling there, her bosom rising and falling against my fingers. I slid three of the tiny buttons apart revealing more lace and allowing her to breathe more deeply. I did not want her to faint. Her hand fluttered about my face, uncertain whether she should push me away or pull me closer. I was hard with desire and I grabbed one lace gloved hand and used it to show her the effect upon me of her kisses. She gasped into my mouth as her fingers wrapped around me and I pushed against her, eager for more friction.

Hard, long kisses gave way to small passionate ones, each of us panting with the urgency of our longing. Both of my hands now were at her breast, pushing down the fabric and pulling apart the delicate buttons revealing her smooth skin. How I longed to savour every moment of that touch, every shiver which my fingers elicited from her divine body but my lust had other plans. My breath came ragged in my throat and I moved from her mouth to kiss her neck through the lace which still gathered there. It rasped against my lips and through it I could taste the rose sweetness of her skin. The carriage jolted, velvet cushions from the seats falling onto the floor and Isabella threw out her hands to steady herself. On my knees before her I took this opportunity to pull at the fabric of her bodice, buttons slipping from the dress and rolling wildly onto the carriage floor around my knees. Her pert breasts were exposed and they contrasted with the dark lace covering her neck and collarbones, their pale beauty and soft curves. Her tight corset pushed them upwards towards my seeking fingertips in delightful submission. The cold night air hit her skin and I heard her make the same sound of the night before, a hissing in of breath. If I had been on fire before I was now nothing but a bright flame of lust.

My mouth moved down, over the lace which tantalised my senses with its rough texture and her intoxicating scent until my lips found the haven of her skin. How to describe that first feeling of her intimate flesh upon my mouth? I could say that her skin sang to me, it tempted me with its reality, the truth that she was wholly mine; that this feeling was quickly followed by the slightly salt-rose taste of her skin, the softness that of petals or of light rain. I could say that her heart beating in her breast was like a siren song as I brushed my lips lower to take the hard bud of her nipple in my mouth. A siren song which crushed me and pulled me inexorable to her and I was shipwrecked and would roam no more. Dear reader, I could say all of these fine words and yet I would still be at a loss to convey the profundity of the experience.

As I closed my lips about one nipple and tugged gently at the other with my fingers she arched towards me, still bracing herself against the carriage walls. The movement of the vehicle rocked us together and apart as though it too was joining us on our journey of desire. I held her delicate body in my hands, fingers splayed out against her spine as my mouth nipped and licked at her breast. Small moans came from her open mouth and her hair whisped about her face where our movements had dislodged it from its prison of feathers and diamonds. Looking at her now I knew that all my life had conspired to bring me here, to this woman. I knew that I would never be free of the spell which she had unwittingly wrought over me and I was glad.

Releasing her so that she fell back against the cushions, now spilling around us with the movement of the carriage, I grabbed up her skirts and ran my hands up over her legs feeling the cotton of her long bloomers ruffling under my hands. Grasping the waistband I pulled them down until they pooled around her ankles. Her body stopped, utterly still. I looked up into her face to see the terror frozen there.

"No..." she gasped out her body taut and humming with desire and inhibition. My hand stroked quickly over her thighs, sweeping over the petal soft skin and then she fell back in a posture of defeat. My fingers brushed gently at the curls between her legs, feeling them wet against my hand, I groaned my body flushing with the newly stoked fires of lust. Her legs parted and the heat of her quim seared my exploring fingers. Sitting back I pulled away the remaining fabric of her bloomers and unfastened my trousers. The sight of her slim pale legs, the delicate skin in contrast with the dark blue leather of her boots which reached up and encased her calves to the knees, created in me such a desire that I almost let free my reins of control. But I am an Englishman, dear reader, and even in the grip of such a mighty passion I knew I could not become such an animal as to deflower her against her wishes.

Her eyes were rolled back in her head and she thrust towards me with her hips as I stroked towards her quim with my fingers. I shuffled forwards on my knees until my cock, now rock hard and aching with desire for her, touched her most intimate flesh. Her eyes flew open. Her expression was one of utter conflict. Desire fought with morals there, her mouth at once open in lust but also in protest, her eyes wide with her wanting but in fear too. The carriage bucked beneath us, the cobbles of the street jolting us together until we were so close that I could feel her wetness slicking the tip of my manhood. The moments stretched between us, long and exquisite and torturous. Then the carriage lurched again and we were parted, the deed undone. Each bump and nudge of the wheels on the uneven street causing us pleasure and pain in equal measure as the gap between our throbbing bodies shortened and we were on the cusp of union until the next movement of the wheels and the cobbles took us further apart.

"Edward!" her voice was cracked, lust and disapproval threading together in her tone. "Edward..." I leaned over her, our bodies close enough to feel the waves of heat which rolled from our intimate flesh, close enough to feel the tautness and slickness of lust which held us in its sway. I put my forehead to hers and closed my eyes, the carriage still swaying and the juncture between our bodies closing between us.

"Not until you are my wife." I whispered, her eyes flew wide and she grabbed for my hair to pull me into a kiss. At that moment the carriage jolted violently and my promise was nearly proved false as our bodies crashed together. My cock slid along her wetness, touching her hard kernel of desire and she moaned against me. Good reader, I know not how I controlled myself, how I pulled away from that delicious touch. I sat with my back to the carriage seat, panting and trying to control the hot wave which coursed through my body. Isabella scrambled forward, pulling down her skirts as she crouched towards me. At first I thought she was crying and I put out a hand to grasp her shoulder, comfort her. But then I saw the most singularly erotic vision of my sordid life. Her mouth was open and she glossed a wet tongue over her lips as she leant towards my aching member. Her eyes were still holding mine as she flicked out her tongue to touch it lightly to the tip, as gently as if she might burn herself through this touch. I moaned and my body sank back against the cushions. I was helpless to move away. Her still gloved hands grasped me tightly and I bucked in her grasp, unable to prevent the motion of my hips towards her mouth. Her lips pursed above me as she moved her head downwards. The sensation of pushing between her lips and into her hot wet mouth was indescribable. A fiery languor enveloped me and my mind fought to capture this shining moment. Her lips were tight about me and she moved with such an infinitesimal slowness that the pleasure was drawn out into something which engulfed me entirely. My body was hers.

I could not see her face now but the angle of her head over me seared itself into my memory. Her movements became more determined once she had realised the pleasure which she was affording me with her mouth. Her soft tongue swirled against me and, coupled with the gentle grip of her lips over me, was urging me forward to release. My hips moved wildly under her small hand where she held me still and steadied herself against the movement of the carriage. I arched towards her, all consciousness focussed on her wet, hot mouth and the swelling tide of passion which threatened to pull me under. Her rhythm increased and I felt myself surging towards release. I tried to push her away, afraid that she might be repulsed by my spending but she put her hand to my chest and showed me by her movements that she was not about to relinquish her hold on me. My body jerked upwards and I came. Her mouth and throat moved and she made a choking sound, then she sat back and I was dazzled by the beatific smile which shone from her smudged and slick lips.

"Mmm," She licked her lips, laughing at the expression of shock on my face and then looking out of the carriage window to where two figures were silhouetted against the oriental lamps of Madam Chang's. "I think Bosie and Laura are waiting for us."

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Thanks for being patient while I went to London! I hope you thought it was worth it!!

Big kisses (and the odd thwack) to the Twi- tinis, Awesomesauce76 and Juliebee!!

Send me a review while I think about what comes (ha) next!


	22. Chapter 22

**This chapter is for Penny! Happy Birthday babes!!!**

Miss Swan's POV

I had no doubt that my actions in the carriage had come as a surprise to Edward. I could feel his eyes still boring into me as I went before him into Madame Chang's. Manners insisted that I wait for him to open the door for me but I felt we had moved beyond social mores and I entered the hallway of the exotic establishment before him. Bosie was sitting on a low bench in the hallway but Laura was nowhere to be seen.

"She's got a punter," he said to us as he rose and crossed to take Edward's coat and my cape. "Hope you don't mind but I have some entertainment lined up too." He nodded his head in a gesture to indicate a young oriental boy wearing only a pair of wide silk trousers who was loitering at the foot of the stair. He was extraordinarily pretty, his delicate features would not have seemed strange on a lady and together with his languid air and state of undress the effect was enchanting. Edward laughed and clapped Bosie on the shoulder.

"Enjoy yourself! I have my own plans for Isabella." He turned to Madam Chang who was lingering in a doorway, a set of keys jangling from her hand.

"Salomé," I corrected, Edward's grin became wider and he bowed his head in deference then he turned back to the proprietress who was waiting patiently beside us.

"We'll want your warmest room Madam Chang," Edward was brisk and businesslike. Madam Chang nodded and handed him a dull silver key. He seemed to understand which room she was indicating and he led me by the hand up the stairs. When we reached the top I turned by habit to the room in which we had held our assignations but his grip pulled me in the other direction and he unlocked the door of a room on quite the other side from the one with which I was familiar.

Inside was as different from what I had expected as one could imagine. Thick black fur covered the low bed and the floors were covered in what appeared to be more fur in white and black smudges. The curtains which hid the window were of thick black tapestry hanging to the floor and spidered over with delicate silver threads of needlework. In the grate roared a fire which, by the hot red coals smouldering in its depths, must have been burning all day. The room seemed to be a haven from the chill of the evening and yet I began to feel myself grow too hot as I stood there in my heavy dress. I was glad Bosie had taken my cape.

Edward saw my discomfort but the only measure which he took to alleviate my situation was to pass me a goblet of a dark, richly spiced wine. The fiery liquid burned through my body, the cinnamon and clove awakening memories of Christmases at home. I sipped and watched as Edward divested himself of his clothes. His jacket and then his waistcoat were carefully folded and put onto some shelves in a Russian style wardrobe which took up one wall of the room. He removed his pocket watch and placed it on top of his clothes. He bent down and unlaced his shiny black shoes tucking them underneath the wardrobe after he had rolled up his socks and placed them inside. Despite the heat in the room I found myself fascinated by this spectacle. I had never seen a man undress and I felt a thrill of the forbidden as he pulled his shirt from inside his trousers and then his hands vanished beneath the material so that he might unbutton them. They slid down his legs and he took them from the floor and folded them neatly beside his jacket. There was something about the process of his undressing which made me think that I was seeing him remove his outward self and become the man I had grown to love. He looked up and caught my stare. He smiled broadly.

"Would you like to wear this?" he offered me my peacock feather mask from where it had been hidden inside the wardrobe. I knew he was giving me my other persona, my mask which revealed my true self and I nodded my head. He came to stand behind me, his breath on my neck as he tied the ribbons which held the mask in place over my eyes. For a moment his fingers grazed my skin and a bolt of energy seemed to tingle between us that, even when he moved away, I could feel his touch upon my skin like a brand. In that moment as he moved away I knew the foundations of our relationship. He understood me; he understood that I needed the mask to allow me to be at ease with the situation in which I found myself. He wanted me to be comfortable, to feel safe and unthreatened. The thought spread through me like a warmth, kindling and igniting my body's reaction to his touch. That consideration, that understanding, coupled with my physical reaction to him was what our relationship was built upon.

He stood before me in his loose shirt, open and exposed. His smile was warm as he wrapped me in his arms and breathed into my hair.

"Salomé, I want to savour you, my darling. I want to fully appreciate this marvellous gift that I have been given." He pulled back to look into my face and I saw my own overwhelming wonder and love mirrored in his wide, honest eyes. "Will you allow me that honour?" I knew that these were not light words, that he wanted, expected me to answer him as honestly as I could. I understood now why he had first undressed before me. He wanted to show me his willingness to be honest with me. I nodded, my gaze never leaving his.

He gently took my reticule from my hands and placed it in the wardrobe. Then he busied himself with my gloves. He pinched each fingertip end and pulled carefully sliding the material down over my hands until they were free. He kissed each fingertip reverently, barely touching my skin with his soft, full lips. I watched him as he reached up to unpin my hat. The scent of his body, warm and seductive filled my head and I breathed him in and closed my eyes. I had not been undressed so carefully since I had been a little girl, safe with my Mama in her room. He kissed my temples where my hair was still intricately coiled and I felt as though he too was breathing in the scent of me.

Next his fingers popped open the tiny buttons on my dress. First the high lace neckline to reveal my throat. He brushed his lips along my collarbone and the warmth of the room seemed to heighten with his touch. Then the buttons lower and lower, opening my dress to reveal my camisole. The pale cotton stood out against the dark blue silk of my gown and where it ended at my waist my wide petticoats flared out to the floor. He knelt before me to finish unfastening the buttons so that I might step out of my gown. As I did so he held my arm decorously, as though I was stepping down from a carriage. The gesture seemed incongruous and I giggled. He looked up to me and smiled again.

"So many clothes!" he grinned, "I'll find you under there somewhere!" His words sent a delicious thrill through me. His long fingers made quick work of the ribbons which tied my camisole and he lifted my hands to pull them carefully over my head. Now exposed in my corset and with my arms bare I felt his gaze lingering on my skin. He held my right arm in his hands and stroked the skin at the inside of my elbow. I moaned involuntarily. Whether it was the spiced wine or the charged atmosphere of the room or the love between us, I have no way of knowing but it seemed as though each tiny hair on my arm was stretching and leaning towards him, craving his touch. As he stroked his hand over my skin, raising the crook of my elbow to his mouth, his touch seemed to leave an imprint there that I would wear for the rest of my life. A mark of his love.

His hands swept lightly over my skin, down over my corset and he pulled me to him. The wide crinoline flared out behind me with the force of his embrace. His mouth met mine and I once again marvelled at the softness of his lips. His tongue teased the corners of my mouth and I felt my legs buckling beneath me. I fought for breath as he held me against him, his hands busy behind me. My petticoats fell around my feet, unfastened by his deft fingers. First the outer skirt, its fancy decoration and delicate lace making a wide, snowy circle at my feet.

My crinoline's steel hoops held their shape, my legs in their stocking and bloomers visible though their flat bands which flared at the back to create my bustle. Then it too fell into a heap on the floor. Then the inner skirt, plain and made of soft cotton, warm from my skin. In my stockings, drawers and corset I felt the heat from the roaring fire burning my skin almost as much as Edward's gaze as it travelled over my body.

He motioned for me to sit in the armchair. He took my foot in his strong hands and quickly unlaced my boots, freeing the blue ribbands from their tiny posts and easing the soft leather from my foot. He did the same for the other boot and laid them carefully on the floor. Holding my hands he bid me stand so that he could unfasten the side ties for each leg of my drawers. Each leg fell away and I stood in my corset and stockings before the fire. Edward's hand lingered over my hips as he smoothed the skin down to my stocking and undid my garters. Gently moving me to sit again, he rolled each stocking down over my leg as though he were revealing a precious artefact. As each inch of my flesh was exposed he pressed long, soft kisses to my skin. Each kiss was like a fire to my body. I thrilled with desire for him, this beautiful man only made more beautiful by his care and gentleness with me.

He pulled me to my feet and undid the bow at the bottom of my corset, his hands brushing against my chemise where is fell from beneath the tight bones, causing it to brush in turn against my inner thigh. My breathing was heavy now and panting. I tried to control my breathing not wanting to faint before he had finished, but with each thread he carefully unlaced I felt as though my control was unravelling too. My skin was now beaded with perspiration from the heat of the fire and the nearness of him and I thought I might die entirely as he brought his mouth to my chest and licked a hot wet line across the brow of the corset as he pulled the final ribbons apart and it slipped down my body.

Only thin cotton parted our bodies now. He pulled me to him roughly, kissing and sucking at my neck as his fingers unpinned my hair and it fell around us both. I had to stand on tiptoe to reach his mouth as he bent to kiss my lips with a fierceness and a passion which shot bolts of lust through me. My arousal slicked my inner thighs and I felt with a thrill of delight his hard length against me as he pulled me to him with his hands at my hips.

"My god is it possible?" he whispered into my shoulder as he picked me up and placed me gently on the bed. His pulled apart the neck of his shirt and quickly dragged it over his head before throwing himself down beside me. His lips skimmed my cheekbone and he buried his face in my hair as his hands pulled me to him. "Is it possible after all that has happened that I only want you more?" His voice sounded reverent, as though he was marvelling at some exquisite artefact of Egypt or a precious jewel from the Orient.

His fingers slipped over my shoulders and down my body until they gently cupped my breasts through my chemise. I arched my back desperate for his fingers to find my nipples, hard as they were with longing for his touch. An eternity seemed to pass before he pinched them lightly between his hands. I moaned and writhed on the bed, clutching his hair with one hand and the fur coverlet with the other. I could feel him hard against my leg, the heat from his body seeming to match my own inner flame. He stopped for a moment; I opened my eyes to find him gazing down at me, my body twisting under his hands. Seeming to make a decision, he took the hem of my chemise and pulled it over my head and threw it to the floor.

The feeling of his naked body next to mine seemed new and utterly compelling. It was as though my entire being was a compass and he was my North. Not caring now about the promise he had made earlier in the carriage I opened my legs to welcome him to me. Instead his fingers swirled across my skin coming nearer and nearer to the origin of my burning desire. His fingers brushed the wet tight curls and his moan echoed my own. He parted my legs further still, the exposure causing my blood to pound wildly in my head. with one hand still caressing my nipples, moving lightly from one to the other, twisting and pulling from my body such groans and trembling that I feared I might die from anticipation, he ran his other hand down between my legs and touched my bud of arousal.

The feeling was of such intensity that I felt my body buck to meet his fingers, seeking more friction as he gently stroked me with his hand. He slid beside me and pulled me on top of him, so my back was pressed against his broad chest. I was stretched over him like a second skin. The hand which snaked across my chest held me firm while it toyed with each of my breasts; the other hand continued its ministrations between my legs. All the time I could feel his hard cock pressing against my back and I realised that each wriggle from my tortured body wrought from his lips an answering moan of lust from his open mouth.

"I'm sorry if this hurts a little, but it will be worth it." He whispered in my ear, his breath and voice ragged with lust. I felt one of his fingers snake inside me. the feeling of violation quickly chased away by the most extraordinary rush of pleasure as he stoked my kernel with his thumb and thrust his finger inside me carefully but purposefully. Gently he pulled his hand away and when he returned to his efforts I felt myself stretched wider by the breadth of two of his fingers. All the pent up desire, all the fiery arousal I had felt before became as nothing next to this almightily conflagration created by his hands on my body, his fingers inside me, the sensation of being held open above him, his hardness thrusting with my own action. The image of us thus entwined seared into my memory. I ground myself hard onto his fingers, willing the friction to increase and he caught my actions and redoubled his efforts.

"Come for me my love" his voice was urgent and demanding. It was too much for me. The crashing wave of feeling rose up beneath me, I felt my muscles contract around him at the same time as his thrusts became more violent and feral. An intense feeling of bliss crushed me, followed by a tremendous warmth which stole over me and I rolled onto my side. I felt him gently wipe my back with a cloth, removing the evidence of his desire. Then he held me to him and, warmed by the fire and our lovemaking, we slept.

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**Well, is that what you were expecting next? I'd love to hear what you think of our reformed (sometimes) Rogueward. Sorry it took so log but RL got in the way and I've not been feeling too well either.**

**Thanks as always go to Awesomesauce76, Jrh927, Passionamama1 and the other half of my brain Chandler1200!!! Love you lots and lots!!!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Miss Swan's POV**

I had received a letter from Mama that morning informing me that she and Papa were to visit London in the next month. I read the letter aloud to Constance as I dressed for the evening. The Wilde's were having a dinner party that evening and Oscar had invited some of his literary friends. I was eagerly looking forward to seeing kind Mr. Le Fanu and hearing more about Mr Stoker's new novel and Constance promised me that I would not be disappointed with the other guest, a new Irish poet named Mr Yeats.

The butterflies in my stomach caused my hands to tremble as I read the last lines of the letter aloud.

"We look forward to seeing you, dear child, the sights of London and meeting the enigmatic Mr Cullen." I lifted my eyes from Mama's familiar handwriting to look at Constance in the mirror where she was pinning up my hair with the red ribbon which matched the vivid scarlet bands on my dress. It was the same dress I had worn the first night I had met Edward. At the thought of him my skin tingled with a delicious anticipation. Constance smiled at my distraction and passed me the small tin of rouge which I had still not returned to Libby.

"We should really buy you your own pot of cosmetics Isabella, "she watched as I dipped my fingers into the rose scented waxy mixture and smoothed a little onto my lips then smudging it onto my cheek bones. "Although I swear you are already blooming. It must be love!" she added grinning wickedly as she finished winding the last long hank of hair up until it coiled on the back of my head. She fixed it with a sparkling hair pin. I laughed and stood up, turning to face her.

"I think it is Constance! And I have you, my dearest friend, to thank for introducing us." I could barely believe that in such a short space of time Edward and I had gone from our hopeless beginning to engagement. Of course, we couldn't make it official until Edward had Papa's blessing and I loved him for the fact that he was as impatient as I to tell London society about our relationship.

Constance took my hands in hers and clasped them tightly to her bosom. She gently kissed my fingertips and I hugged her to me. After a moment I realised she was trembling slightly and I pulled away from her embrace to look into her face. Tears were welling in her eyes and spilling down her soft cheeks.

"Constance, whatever is the matter?" I wiped a tear with my hand and smoothed her cheek dry with my fingers.

"Oh Isabella," she sniffed as she took the handkerchief I offered her. "I am just so glad to have such a good friend in London. I was just thinking of when you must return home. I will miss you so very much." With that fresh tears ran down her face and she sniffed into the soggy piece of linen. I lifted her head with my hand and wiped the tears again with a fresh kerchief from the dresser drawer.

"Constance, when Edward and I marry I have no doubt he will wish to remain in England." I smiled warmly at her brightening expression. "Obviously we will have to go home for a while, so that Mama can show off the handsome, rich Englishman I have captured..." At this we both laughed and I felt too glad that I would not be leaving Constance. I was also glad that I would not be leaving Laura, I had never before had such good friends and to lose them so soon after meeting them would have surely broken my heart.

We both heard the front door closing and male voices drifted up the stairs punctuated by Laura's hearty laughter. Wiping the last of the evidence of her emotions from her face, Constance took my hands and we left to join the party downstairs.

Oscar was leaning on the fireplace, a goblet of brandy in his hands as he regaled his guests with the latest tale of the comedic banter between himself and his dissenters. Bosie was sitting in one of the wide armchairs, looking up at Oscar and laughing rowdily, adoration writ large upon his smiling face. Laura was sipping her drink and giggling into her hand, Mr. Stoker and Mr. Le Fanu were sitting on the sofa and their faces were lit with the fire and the conversation. A man I had not seen before was smiling quietly to himself. He wore a serious tweed suit and his hair fell dramatically over his face over wire rimmed spectacles that reflected the firelight and hid his eyes. This must be the poet, I thought to myself but then all my thoughts were eclipsed as Edward crossed the room holding out towards me a goblet shining with brandy. His hair was incandescent in the firelight and his eyes sparkled as he smiled at me. Whether the other people in the room truly grew silent or whether this was just an impression borne out of my overwhelming feelings I cannot be certain, but for a moment the rest of the world melted away and I marvelled at this brilliant young man who was now all mine.

"Ah, love's young dream!" Oscar's voice was kind even though his words were mocking and the others all laughed as Edward and I started as though we had only just noticed that we were not alone. I began to speak, stumbling over my words in embarrassment but Oscar interrupted me to introduce the man who was still smiling quietly at the side of the room. "Miss Swan, Ireland's great poet, Mr William Butler Yeats!" he beamed grabbing Yeats' arm and pulling him forward.

Pushing the heavy lock of fair hair back from his eyes Mr Yeats smiled again. I could not judge his age for he was one of those men who would always seem young. The twinkle in his eye and the shy smile would forever make him appear a boy, they rendered him ageless. Before he could speak Oscar interrupted him. "Yeats is a member of a secret occult society here in London, isn't that right?" Yeats winced at Oscar's obvious glee at his discomfort.

"Oscar," his voice was soft and lilted delightfully, "it will hardly going to remain a secret society if you insist upon telling about it to everyone you meet." Oscar's broad grin beamed wider still.

"Yeats, my dear fellow, what is the point of a secret society that no one knows about!" This was the cue for more laughter. I was immediately taken with Mr Yeats, he had a soft voice with much more of an accent than Oscar and was more quietly spoken that any of the other three Irish men I had met so far. As we went into dinner Edward took my hand and draped it over his arm.

"Isabella," his voice was low and husky and his breath against my neck as he bent to whisper to me sent a thrill of desire through my body. I looked into his face, his lips inches from my own. His next words made me gasp and I felt my mouth fall open. "Through dinner I want you to remember where this hand, these fingers have been." He stroked them against the silk of my gloved arm. I felt my eyes go wide and I gulped involuntarily. I could remember well where his hand had been. The feeling of those fingers inside me, pushing into me and stretching me wide around him flooded through my whole being, I felt my knees weaken. He gripped my arm tighter and gave me a small smile from the corner of his mouth as he led me into dinner.

If I was concerned that my blushes would be seen by the other guests I was proved wrong as we entered the elegant dining room to hear Oscar chiding Laura for her lack of appreciation for the arts.

"Look Oscar, give me a beautiful naked Greek sculpture and I'll be as appreciative as you like!" was Laura's boisterous answer. Oscar laughed and slapped his leg.

"Lady Laura you have all the finesse of the English ruling classes!" he exclaimed clasping Bosie on the shoulder to show how he included him in the joke. "If it can't be shot at, you aren't interested!" Bosie looked up at Oscar, the love and devotion for the larger man shining on his face.

"Now Oscar, that's not true. We like the Irish and we can't shoot at them! Well not anymore." The table fell silent and I realised that this joke might be taken as an insult by the other Irishmen at the table. I saw Edward's eyes meet Laura's and then sweep across the table, gauging the other men's reactions. To my surprise it was Yeats who broke the tension.

"Lord Alfred," his voice was solemn but his eyes twinkled as he spoke, "as prey we Irishmen have become too wily for your English huntsmen, what other hunted creature can write poetry and plays and novels such as the Irish?" He laughed to show that he was not offended by the joke even though I could tell from his tone that this was not a subject he took lightly. Bosie laughed, obviously relieved that his jest had not offended the other guests.

A servant I had not seen before was pouring Edward's wine as he sat opposite me talking quietly to Constance. Oscar was explaining to Laura, whose appreciative gaze had fallen on the young woman's ample bosom, that she was a new member of his household staff, a native of his home country.

"Well Shannon, "Laura's eyes were predatory as she drank in the girl's voluptuous form. "I may have to poach you from Mr Wilde; I can always use a girl like you at Ashton House! How about it Oscar?" Oscar laughed at Laura's obvious advances and the blushes of the young woman still trying to pour Edward's wine.

"I think we'll keep her busy here Laura, we don't want her worked too hard!"

But I was distracted; I watched as a drip fell from the neck of the decanter and ran down the side of Edward's wine glass, heading for the white tablecloth. Edward's long index finger stopped the teardrop of wine in its progress and he brought the finger to his lips. His eyes lifted to mine and his tongue darted out to taste the moisture on his finger tip. A fiery ripple shot through my body, ending in a rush at the juncture of my legs. A tiny moan escaped my lips and Constance turned to me with concern on her face.

"Isabella, are you unwell my dear?" she touched my arm gently with her hand. I stammered that I had a dry throat and she motioned for Shannon to pour my wine. Edward turned to speak to Laura again and I saw his small smile as he noticed my discomfort. Laura's eyes followed the direction of his amusement and she smiled at me, a wide knowing smile. So, she was privy to our little game, the thought, which should have filled me with shame only fuelled the desire coursing through my body.

The conversation at dinner should have been captivating. Those brilliant minds should have held my attention utterly but I was enchanted, bewitched by every movement of Edward's hands. Each time he stroked the length of the stem of his wine glass, my body trembled and I imagine those fingers stroking my breasts, caressing and pinching the hard nubs. Every subtle rubbing of his thumb against his fingers and I felt it on my most intimate parts. By the time Oscar was sending for dessert I had begun to wriggle a little in my seat to relieve the delicious pressure which was building inside me. I excused myself and left the room. Just as I reached the stairs a hand grabbed me from behind.

"Isabella!" Edward's lips were on mine and his hands held me tightly to him. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest. The embers of lust which had been fanning my body now began a fresh blaze between my legs as I clung to him. He pulled back from my lips eliciting a moan from deep in my throat. His soft mouth worked hungrily at my neck as he trailed hot kisses over my feverish skin. So intense and demanding were his attentions that, for a moment, I feared he would throw me down upon the Wilde's staircase and have me there. In truth, dear reader, I was disappointed when he pushed me away and held me against the wall his breath ragged and his chest heaving with the effort of withdrawal. "Good god woman, you inflame me!" he laughed shakily and thrust a hand through his hair as a rueful smile played over his lips. He leaned forward again and I felt my body arching towards him like a bow in the archer's hands. He placed his hands on my hips in a chaste fashion though his eyes hungrily roved across my person.

"Tonight, my dear, tempting seductress. Tonight when you are alone in your room and you are moved to relieve that itch, that burning of desire in your loins, think of my hands." He took a deep breath as though to steady himself and I realised that this was as much a moment of torture for him as it was for myself. To be so near and yet be compelled by the petty rules of society seemed grossly unfair in the face of our grand passion. He pulled me to him roughly, pressing his mouth over mine and kissing me with force before his manner changed and he instead brushed my lips with his own. I was surprised to find that the flame of desire which was raging inside me was more provoked by this gentle manner and when if let his tongue gently lick at the edge or my mouth, where my lips conjoined so extreme was the agitation of my blood, rushing and pounding in my ears, I thought I might faint away.

A door opened further down the hallway and Shannon came walking briskly towards us. In the dim light of the hall she did not see us until she was almost upon us. She was carrying the dessert, an enormous confection of fruit and cream and meringue. Edward moved away from me and suddenly appeared in her line of vision. She gave a start and the dish began to slip from her fingers. Edward darted out and caught it as it began to topple forward. Remarkably the cake was still intact and Shannon stammered her thanks as Edward held open the door for her to enter the dining room. I could see her mind working as she passed by me, wondering what we had been doing in the hallway in the dark. She looked up at Edward who smiled and raised a finger to his lips as one might gesture a secret to a child. Her eyes widened and then she smiled and nodded. I heard Edward's dark chuckle as he followed her into the room.

The rest of the evening proved to be most delightful. The conversations were witty and enlightening. Laura baited Mr. Stoker about the female characters in his new novel.

"So, would you say that Lucy Westernra represented young ladies of society Bram?" she asked him, arching an eyebrow and using his Christian name quite boldly. He blushed and his answer was somewhat stammered.

"I do believe Lady Laura that the aristocracy has less of the inhibitions of the middle classes. Lucy merely represents that belief." Even though Mr. Stoker was keen to keep the conversation on a non combatative thread Bosie and Oscar egged Laura on further.

"You think she's a tart don't you Laura?" laughed Bosie, wiggling his eyebrows in amusement when the room hushed as he used the vulgar term.

"Well, she does end up with four men's bodily fluids inside her," guffawed Laura lustily, "and she's not even married!" Bosie, Oscar and Edward clutched themselves in mirth and Mr. Stoker looked most distressed.

"But... she is under the evil influence of the Count!" he protested, intent on rescuing the conversation from the gutter where it was so obviously bound.

"Another aristocrat!" exclaimed Edward clapping Bosie on the back as the latter choked on his hilarity. "The only decent woman in the book is Mina!" he exclaimed looking at me. "Dear, sweet Mina, who chooses love and wedlock over the seductive and immoral Count Dracula!"

"I can't think of any girl who would not choose chastity and innocence over immorality and lust Mr Cullen!" I said seriously looking right into his eyes. "After all, what man would want a woman who had given herself over to licention and debauchery? " Edward's eyes gleamed as he replied. I did not dare look at Laura or Bosie for fear I should laugh and expose us all.

"What sort of man indeed, Miss swan. I should say that someone who would choose a fallen woman over an angel would be a very bad man." I could feel the laughter bubbling in my throat and I was relieved when Constance changed the subject to the location of the novel. Edward's gaze did not leave my own and I felt the tingling and thrilling feeling of desire coursing through me.

That evening when I closed my bedroom door my hand was trembling. So intoxicated was I by his presence that I felt light headed as I lay on the bed. Every touch of his hand, every glance of his eyes was seared into my very core. The throbbing pressure between my legs was acute and my hands moved to lift my skirts without my volition. As my fingertips skimmed the soft cotton of my drawers they became his fingers. The light brushing against the fabric was maddeningly sweet. I dipped my fingers into my own wet warmth, imagining them to be Edward's long, pianist's fingers stroking me and playing upon me like an instrument. I could almost see his eyes looking down into me as he swept me nearer and nearer to the brink of desire. I heard again the soft groans and breaths which came from his lips in our moments of passion. I tried to prolong the pleasure but my body was coiled tightly with lust and I felt myself spilling into release almost too soon. As my body crested a terrible wave of pleasure his name was on my lips.

***********

So, I am very very sorry for the long wait for this chapter. RL got hectic and I thought I'd lost my mojo for a while. Have I? Let me know what you thought of this chapter. It was hard to write!

Thanks have to go to the Twi tinis – new members and veterans, you ladies are fantastic friends to have and even the nagging helped! (Though I wouldn't admit it at the time lol). My love and thought go out to jrh927 in particular; I hope this chapter went a little way to shine some sunshine into your dark days. Love hugs, M&Ms and a big cup of Chai tea goes to my darling Chandler1200!! What DID I do before I knew you beauty? I simply can't imagine! And finally, but never, never lastly, thank you to Reg my inspiration for the naughties! Yum!


	24. Chapter 24

Miss Swan's POV

There was little time for Edward and I to meet in the weeks leading up to Mama and Papa's visit. Edward had gone away with Bosie to visit some friends they had made whilst at Oxford and I missed him terribly. Laura had attempted to keep me busy with the organisation of a weekend party at her family house in the country. As the weather was becoming even colder in the approach to Christmas, all the activities had been planned for indoors. There was to be a great game of hide and seek, an indoor picnic in the conservatory and the weekend was to culminate in a masked ball to which she had invited most of London society.

"It'll be a very different bash than the one to which you usually wear this item!" She laughed as she added my Salomé peacock feather mask into the large trunk I was to take with me. Libby and Shannon had already packed my bags but there were a few things which I had no desire to be displayed before the staff. My kimono and mask were amongst these items. I laughed at Laura's expression of pursed lips and raised eyebrows as her glance was caught by the unattractive underwear which Libby had carefully folded in the bag. "Good god Isabella! Are you trying to kill Edward with frustration? He'll never get at you in those!" I laughed and slammed the lid of the trunk down as Laura deftly slid her fingers out of the way of the clasp.

"What is your costume for the ball?" I asked. I knew from experience that Laura could not resist the opportunity to talk about an outfit. She sat down on the bed and began to peel off her thin suede gloves.

"Marie Antoinette! I have the most enormous wig my dear! It has an exact replica of a mermaid in a shell sitting in it!" I laughed at her description and the large shape she was describing with her hands as she spoke. "What are you wearing?" I finished closing the trunk and sat on the dressing table stool in front of her.

"Juliet." I said simply. She smiled broadly and clapped her hands together.

"And then Edward must wear his Romeo costume!" she grinned again, "ah he has just the legs for the hose!" her red tongue darted out and swept across her lip with such a fierceness that I was quite taken aback. Then she looked at me and laughed again and I realised that her expression had been for show.

Two days later we were in the Ashton carriage with its sumptuous red leather seats and plush velvet cushions and positively hurtling through the English countryside to Laura's ancient family home. My stomach was fluttering with the anticipation of seeing the house where Laura had spent her childhood and, I would be a fool to deny it, the prospect of seeing Edward again. A note had been delivered to Tithe Street as I had been about to leave. It was from Edward and in it he had promised that he would already be at Ashton Park when we arrived that evening. Constance had hugged me on the doorstep (the Wilde's would be taking their own carriage and setting off later as soon as the boys were settled for bed) and I had tripped to Laura's carriage with a light heart.

Through the dimly lit twilight woodland we raced. The night, now it had come upon us so swiftly was chilly and Laura had passed me her small silver flask of brandy as we galloped through the encroaching darkness. The comfortable silence that falls between good friends on a long journey lay between us as I passed the flask back to her, smiling my thanks. I sat back into my seat and watched the silhouettes of the trees with their bare branches whipping by the window.

Soon Laura leant forward in her seat and clutched my arm, pointing with her other hand through the window ahead.

"Look! There she is! The old family pile," her teeth glinted in the darkness as she smiled with affection at the sight of the house. I looked to where she indicated my eyes making out the white facade of an enormous stately home. I would never get used to the age of things in England. The town, the streets, the buildings and the families seemed to stretch back into the ancient past. In comparison the house I grew up in, though very grand by standards in my home country, seemed so modern and gauche. Ashton Park loomed out of the darkness as we cleared the trees and I gasped at the brilliant white building which sprawled in the moonlight like a white tiger.

"It's, she's beautiful!" I corrected myself looking and Laura and seeing my own excitement mirrored in her face.

In a few moments the carriage crunched along the sweeping driveway and we were on the wide steps which lead up to the house. The interior was warmly lit and there was an enormous Christmas tree in the hallway. Fashionable and festive, its branches were lit by little glass lanterns inside each of which flickered a candle. Holly and ivy wound themselves sinuously down the balustrade of the broad staircases which swept in fantastic arches to the hallway where we stood. The candlelight glittered from the mirrors and polished silver which adorned the dark wood of the hallway. Laura had explained how only some parts of the old house had been equipped with gaslights and, although each bedroom was equipped with a bath into which hot water flowed from a gas boiler, the rest of the house was still lit by candles. She had thought the idea terribly embarrassing but I must confess I found the sight enchanting. It was like stepping back in time. A fire burned in a fireplace big enough for twenty men to stand inside. The whole scene was magical and welcoming.

This first impression of Ashton Park was made even more inviting by the young man who stood looking over the balcony, a glass of wine glinting blood crimson in his hands. His hair was lit golden by the candlelight and his long white fingers curled over the balcony making him resemble a majestic bird of prey as he surveyed our entrance. For once I felt most glad to be the prey. His broad grin illuminated his face as we ascended the staircase. He took my hand at the top step and his other arm snaked daringly about my waist.

"Darling," he peeled the silk glove from my hand and pressed his full lips to my fingers. "I'm so glad you're here." I smiled, my breath quite taken away by his beauty, the intense happiness and the spark of incredulity I always felt in his presence. Would I ever become accustomed to him, to his love for me? I shook my head at these thoughts and he frowned. "Is something wrong?" I shook my head and smiled again.

"No, no, I am so happy to be here, with my dearest friends. I feel as though nothing could be more perfect than my life at this moment."

"Of course, you were missing me from your equation!" Bosie appeared at elbow and he linked arms with Laura on one side and myself on the other, effectively sweeping my hand from Edward's grasp as he marched us into the house. Our laughter seemed to echo back to us from the dark wood panelled walls as though the house joined us in our mirth.

The guests who had arrived before us had already dined and we joined them in the drawing room where drinks were being served and musical accompaniment from a piano at the side of the huge room sparkled over polite conversation. A number of people I recognised from Lola's costume party and some I knew from more orthodox gatherings were drinking and laughing together. A few looked up as we entered and one woman in particular gazed across the room, her expression a mixture of hostility and curiosity. She was very tall and had spectacularly dark hair which she wore loose over her shoulders. The front of her raven hair was swept into a large curl which caught the glint of the candle light in its sheen. Her brows were dark and elegant sweeping over large almond shaped eyes which were fringed with long lashes. Her full mouth was deep scarlet and pulled into a sneering smile. She wore a long emerald green dress which showed off her pale skin. Her entire appearance was that of a malevolent Snow White. She blinked once and looked away, her glance clearly dismissive.

"Who is that?" I pointed a shaky finger discreetly in the direction of the woman who was now laughing loudly at a joke made by her companions. I watched as her black gloved hands rested on her hips as she bent forward in mirth in a most unladylike fashion. Bosie followed my glance and pursed his lips disapprovingly.

"That," his voice dripped with disdain, "is Lady Caroline Bentham. "His eyes slid sideways to Edward whose face had gone quite pale.

"What is she doing here?" he whispered fiercely to Laura who was standing with her mouth open in a perfect O beside him.

"I don't know. I didn't invite her Eddie, I wouldn't. Perhaps she's come with someone else?" Before I could ask anyone what was happening the woman had turned on her heel and was before us. She towered above me; she was much taller than Laura or Bosie, only Edward had any advantage on her height. At once I felt like a child listening to an adult conversation which took place above my head.

"Edward," the woman inclined her head and offered him her hand. He ignored it and stared at her with frank horror on his face. "What? Didn't you know I was back from Europe? Oh it was so boring, I tell you! Those Italians! Ugh!" she shuddered and it was one of the most exceptionally erotic things I had ever seen. Her white shoulders, bare in the unusual dress shivered seductively and her hands were raised to her throat as though to protect her from the terrible Italians of which she spoke. "So, now I'm back I wondered if we might take a trip to a certain Oriental establishment we both know so well?" Her smile reminded me of a picture I had seen in one of Papa's journals. A local fisherman had caught an enormous shark, the picture showed him and his son standing in its wide stretched jaws. Lady Caroline's smile, all teeth and menace, elicited the same fear in me as had the picture. I looked up into Edward's face. It was obvious he was thinking fast and hard. Silence stretched out. The tension was tangible between us all.

"Lady Caroline? How delightful to meet you! I am Miss Isabella Swan, Edward's fiancée!" I stuck out my hand and willed it not to shake. Lady Caroline looked down upon me as though vermin had deigned to speak. Her precise eyebrows raised and her mouth once more pulled itself into a sneer. Her nostrils flared and, it seems ridiculous to recount it to you now dear reader, but I swear she growled at me. She looked again at my hand, so small next to her own with its sinister long fingers and uttered four words.

"We'll see about that!" she hissed and whirled away from us, leaving the room and banging a door loudly in her wake, startling the butler who stood nearby with his tray of drinks so that there was at once an enormous clatter and crashing as the tray and glasses fell smashed to the ground.

It was Laura who broke the silence.

"How terribly unoriginal!" She giggled into her hand, clutching Bosie for support in her mirth.

"Dreadful!"agreed Bosie laughing with her. "Really Laura, one really must be more discerning in one's weekend guests! That woman's dialogue was so cliché as to be painful!" They continued to laugh so wildly that, despite my misgivings at recent events, I managed a feeble smile. Edward merely stared after Lady Caroline, his expression stony and unreadable. He turned to me and looked like he was about to speak but then a small man with dark curly hair grabbed him by the arm and pumped his hand enthusiastically.

"Edward Cullen! Good grief man, it's been too long! What have you been up to? Or should I say whom?" He laughed at his own joke, failing miserably to pick up on the chilly atmosphere around him. Edward blinked as though he was just waking up from a spell. He looked at the young man, who was still frantically shaking his hand and spoke.

"Robby! Dear fellow, how marvellous to see you!" Before Edward could say anything else the young man had him firmly by the arm and was leading him off to meet someone who would 'be simply delighted' to see him. I looked at his retreating form as he turned his head to me, an expression of apology and concern on his face, before he vanished into the crowd.

"God. Caroline! What a hag!" This was Laura who was helping herself to drink being offered by a servant. She downed one glass of champagne in a gulp, then another followed in quick succession, then she took a glass and waved the servant away. If the situation called for three glasses of champagne then it must be serious I decided.

"Who is she? How does she know Edward?" These were only two of the myriad of question buzzing around in my head like angry bees. Laura opened her mouth to speak when a familiar voice interrupted her.

"Lady Caroline Bentham is only the second most wealthy heiress in England!" Hissed Lord Arthur Choughton appearing from behind Bosie with, from the flushed cheeks and slurred words, I surmised to be the last in a long line of drinks clutched in his hand. "i'm surpised even savages from _your_ country haven't heard of the Bentham family!"He sneered. Bosie raised an eyebrow sardonically.

"Second to Lady Laura Ashton!" he retorted fixing Lord Arthur with a gaze which begged him to disagree. Even as drunk as he was, Lord Arthur wasn't going to take the bait. He nodded seriously then his expression brightened with a most malicious twinkle in his eye he continued.

"Wasn't she engaged to Eddie way back? Before she popped off to Europe? I seem to remember them gadding about all over town. Even in the East End," here he leered a wink at me, "I think old Topper Healey saw them in some disreputable oriental brothel!" He laughed a wheezing laugh, leaning forward and spilling his drink onto his shoes. Laura, Bosie and I stepped back automatically.

His words cut through me like a blade of ice. At once I felt cold, so cold that I thought I might faint. I felt, rather than saw, Laura catch my arm. My mind raced, trying to glean some meaning from Arthur's words other than the most obvious. Try as I might I could find no other, no happy misunderstanding, no mistake that would put back together my now fractured world. Edward had been engaged before. To that woman. They had been to Chang's.

I feared I was going to vomit. I brought my hand to my mouth and began to choke. Someone, somewhere was crying, a piercing keening sound. I realised that someone was me. Bosie grabbed my other arm and together they rushed me from the room, drunken laughter from Lord Arthur evidencing that he found the whole scene hilarious.

Once out in the hallway I still fought to comprehend the horrible truth which threatened to engulf me. The dark panelling and candle light which had seemed so romantic and comforting now seemed to frown down upon me. I was an interloper, a gauche colonial girl who had stumbled into this sophisticated and decadent world of old money and loose morals, no wonder i had been fooled. I didn't fit in one bit with these people with their ancient bloodlines and feudal titles. I was still crying as they led me to my room. I should have been surprised when Shannon opened the door but I was incapable of any emotion but the deep, drowning grief which swallowed me. Laura spoke to Bosie who rushed away after patting my shoulder in, what I now knew, to be an Englishman's attempt at affection.

"Shannon my dear, some brandy. Miss Swan's had a terrible shock." Shannon curtsied and nodded and left the room. She was back in an instant with a large glass filled with brandy. I took it with my numbed fingers, feeling that the glass was warm as the subtle heat permeated my frozen hands. Shannon's eyes were full of concern and I tried to smile reassuringly but I couldn't seem to move my face. "Just sip the brandy Isabella." Laura stroked my hair while I drank slowly. The brandy slipped its warm fingers over my body and I felt myself begin to thaw.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" I looked now into her eyes and I saw that my question had hit its mark. She blinked slowly, as thought to shake her guilt.

"I didn't even think about her. I was so caught up in the romance, in the four of us having fun, in Edward's happiness. And yours," she added holding my hands in her own and rubbing them slightly, absentmindedly.

"But they were engaged!" My voice sounded cracked and I began to cry again, this time with anger. Laura flinched and I immediately repented my scolding.

"Not really, Caroline told everyone that they were and Edward was too much of a gentleman to denounce her outright as a liar. She went to Europe and we've not heard from her for six months." she looked at me now, sincerity shining from her eyes. "I really didn't think it was important. I didn't consider her at all."

My mind swam as I tried to make sense of the facts.

"So, he didn't ask her to marry him?" I asked in a small voice. She shook her head. "But he did take her to Chang's?" Before Laura could reply the door flung open and Lady Caroline burst upon us.

She was so imposing that she seemed to take up the whole doorway as she stood with one hand on her hip and the other pointing straight at me. I struggled to my feet, dropping the glass, of which I was vaguely aware rolling away across the floor as though it too wanted to escape this dreadful woman.

"You thief! You wanton harlot!" she screamed, her red wicked mouth wide and her white teeth clashing together as spittle flew from her mouth. I took an involuntary step back and she advanced upon me, her eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. "You have stolen my Edward, you nothing! You no mannered, low birth bitch!" The last word was spat from between those sharp teeth. She lunged towards me, grabbing my bodice in her powerful hands. I was dragged forward until my face was inches from her own. I shrank back feeling entirely afraid that she might even bite at me with that vicious mouth. Then something strange happened, her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, her grip upon my person loosened and she sank into an ungainly heap on the floor.

I looked up from beneath my lashes, almost too frightened to see what had befallen Lady Caroline. Standing behind her, one on each side of her crumpled body were Laura and Shannon. Laura held a copper basin in her hands while Shannon wielded a tea tray. As the realisation of the grounds for Lady Caroline's prostrate form dawned upon me I began to giggle. I am quite sure, dear reader, that nerves were the progenitor of this sudden mirthful humour. Laura and Shannon exchanged a look and began to laugh too. Soon we were, all three, laughing so hard that I had to sit down and Shannon and Laura clung together as tears streamed down their faces.

"Bloody hell; remind me never to attack you on a dark night Shannon!" Laura giggled. Shannon, appearing to remember her station stood and straightened her skirts demurely. She looked up though her hair, which had begun to wisp out from under her cap, and caught Laura's eye, at which she began to laugh again.

"Yes milady," she guffawed, "and remind me never to fight you off ma'am!"

* * *

So, what do you think of Lady Caroline Bentham? I'm simply dying to know! And Laura and Shannon's smack down? Did it make you laugh as much as I did writing it? Send me a review guys and let me know your thoughts. BTW this story's been nominated for an 'Eddie and Bellie award', so show Rogueward and Lola how much you love them and vote eh? Cheers m'dears!

To the Twi- tini girls, Awesomesauce76 and RaindropsToo thanks for the love and laughter! You have made my life so much richer by knowing you!!

Thanks have to go to Chandler1200 for: loaning me her Edward, buying me a massive bag od M and Ms and sending me the rugby players, gherkins and chicken licker links. You are a star!! ILY

To Reggie, yum, just yum yum yum!


	25. Chapter 25

Bosie's POV 

I lay under the sheet, wondering how in God's green earth I had let Laura talk me into this mess. Not that we had much other recourse given the unfortunate circumstances. The body in the bed beside me moaned and a sleepy hand ruffled through my hair affectionately.

"Eddie," she murmured as she turned over to snuggle against my body. Another hand wormed its way between my leg and the mattress its destination was obvious. It was time to act. Feigning waking I sat up and rubbed my eyes hoping that the gesture would allow my bedfellow time to adjust to the unusual situation.

"Bosie!" the voice was startled, angry and confused. Just what we wanted. I peeked through my hands. Lady Caroline Bentham clutched the bed sheet to her bosom with a modesty which, had the lie I was about to spin been the truth, she had no right to claim.

"Ahhh!" I groaned; cting distressed at realizing who I had woken up with. "God Caroline, how much did I drink last night?" she shook her head.

"How should I know? The last thing I remember was going to find that awful American woman..."her voice trailed away and her eyes narrowed. "What happened to me?" her tone was fierce. I took this opportunity to put some distance between us, scrambling out of bed and hopping in a most ungainly fashion into my trousers.

"I met you right outside the door. I don't know what you said Caroline but you were in a furious temper. I suggested a walk in the garden to cool off, we had some more champagne, we talked and ...well..." I shrugged and cocked my head to indicate the mattress. Her facial expressions were a sight to behold at my tale and I tell you, dear reader, I struggled to contain my amusement.

"We....we...." she mumbled waving her hand towards the bed as though the whole situation was its fault entirely.

"Yes." I said firmly, barely suppressing the smirk that played about my lips. Could she really be so arrogant as to think her charms would work on me? Evidently this was so as she eyed me with wonder, clearly trying to remember our amorous activities. "Don't you remember?" she shook her head and then nodded, unsure of which movement was the more appropriate. Oh how I would enjoy recounting this tale to Laura, Isabella and Eddie!

I clutched my hand to my chest as though mortally wounded by her slight. She pursed her lips, uncertain of what to say.

"Look, this'll ruin my reputation if it gets out and, if its fine with you, I'd like to forget the whole matter!" I tried to inject a tone of wounded pride into my voice, good god I was a genius! She nodded a little too quickly; obviously the thought of her own reputation had crossed her mind. She lifted her hand to her head and gingerly felt her crown, she winced.

"How did...?" she winced again when her hand made contact from where Laura had bashed her with the basin.

"I'm afraid I might have been a little... rough with you." I managed to look chastened at this revelation. Her eyes went wide and she stared at me with incredulity. Then a blush crept up her face and took a sip of water from a glass on her cabinet to cover her embarrassment. There was a long silence. "Right, I'm going to go." I said as I pulled on my shirt and, without fastening the buttons, draped my jacket over my arm. "Thanks for an entertaining evening!" I finished jauntily giving her a wink and leaving the room with a swagger. Once outside I leaned against the wall, laughter spilling out of me as I realized that Laura's plan had worked. Caroline was unlikely to recount the night's events, real or imagined, to anyone.

Lady Caroline Bentham's POV

Ye Gods! Had I really spent the night with Lord Alfred Douglas, rumored sodomite and well known for his dislike of women, unless you counted that ghastly snob Lady Laura Ashton and I didn't count her at all frankly. I rubbed my head and cringed at the dull thud of pain which echoed in my skull as my fingers probed the sore spot. I shook my head, a mistake which prompted more pain and wondered just how sozzled I had actually been. I couldn't remember a thing after I had gone to that American woman's room. Nothing at all. Which was not unusual, I've lost a few evenings to champagne.

What was surprising though was Eddie's seemingly complete change of character. I frowned at my reflection in the mirror, the woman looking back at me looked rather worse for wear and she frowned too. Both of us had fully expected Eddie to be more than willing to re-establish our relationship on my return from Rome. He had been a passionate lover but I knew from bitter experience that he enjoyed the chase and the win more than the more mundane elements of the time after. I had been quite certain he would have been champing at the bit as soon as he caught a glimpse of me in my new Italian gown.

The aforementioned item was thrown carelessly on the floor. The material was ripped and creased, its sumptuous shakes looking wan and disheveled in the harsh morning light cascading through the window. I sighed. It wasn't the cost of the dress; I knew that daddy could spend that amount over and over again with scant regard for the expense. It was rather the distress that the abandoned clothes indicated. They accused me mutely from their resting place, whispering in scandalized tones of desperate passion and haste. Oh god, what had I done? How would I face any of the people now amassing for breakfast? Who had seen me with Lord Alfred? Would I be able to show my face in public again?

Bosie'sPOV

I joined Laura and Isabella in the morning room where they had just begun breakfast. A silver pot of coffee was placed next to a large matching teapot. Laura was buttering some toast from a silver toast rack and Isabella was staring out of the window at the frosty landscape of the ornamental garden. As I sat down noisily and snatched the toast from Laura's hand they looked up in surprise.

"Bosie!" Laura's expression as worth my discomfort of the morning. She passed me a cup of coffee and Isabella poured a little milk into the cup. Knowing they would be waiting for my story I took a leisurely sip of my drink and eyed their agitation with amusement. Laura tapped her knife against her plate in an impatient manner. I tried not to laugh. Eventually I could stall no longer and I met their gazes.

"Bosie, you insufferable pain in the ....." Isabella gasped and Laura stopped mid sentence. She smiled and took a dainty bite of her toast. Her expression resolute, she would not beg for details.

"Very well, very well, if you must know...it worked like a charm!" Isabella sighed and sat back in her seat, evidence that she was more concerned than Laura about the fuss that Caroline might have caused when she realized when Laura and the Irish maid had assaulted her the evening before.

"Tell, tell!" Laura grabbed my arm and pinched me tightly. I grimaced and leant forward in a conspiratorial manner.

"She was horrified when I lead her to believe that we had spent the evening in an amorous embrace!" I waggled my eyebrows suggestively knowing that this would make the ladies laugh all the harder. "I left her with the recommendation that we speak to no one of our night of passion." I concluded still laughing. Laura wiped a tear from the corner of her eye so great was her mirth at the tale. Just as I was about to embellish on the story for comic affect Edward strode across the room.

"May I sit here?" he asked Isabella sweetly, his head bowed. I noticed he didn't look into her eyes and rather kept his head down. I knew him well enough to know that he was still feeling like a cad about Caroline's sudden appearance and his failure to disclose his previous relationship to Isabella.

Such a change had been brought over this man in the few short weeks he had known this woman. I had always known that, at heart, he was a good man. He had rescued me from more than one scrape in our Oxford years and in more recent times he had shown himself to be an excellent friend and confidant.

Isabella inclined her head slightly, she was still angry with him; I could not find it in my heart, even as Edward's great friend, to blame her for her mistrust and disappointment. I knew that soon she would ask us all the question we were all asking ourselves. Why had we not told her of Caroline? For my part the answer was simple, I had thought she would not come back from Italy. I had imagined that she would meet a beautiful and romantically penniless Italian Count and would have a romantic wedding somewhere by a glorious and perfect Italian lake. Then she would swan home to show off her new husband and make Edward jealous to find him also married. There would have been sparks but they would have been over quickly once she realized she could do nothing about it.

Edward pulled out the chair next to me and gestured for a servant to bring a coffee cup. For a moment we ate and drank in silence, Edward glancing up at Isabella who resolutely ignored his imploring eyes. For the first time an uncomfortable silence fell between us. I couldn't bear it.

"I've pretended to spend a night of romance with Caroline Bentham in order to get Laura out of a scrape after she hit said lady on the head with a basin and knocked her unconscious!" I blurted out, barely breathing between words. Edward's face was a study in horror but before he could speak the door to the morning room opened and we all looked to the new arrival.

It was Caroline. She was wearing another of her terribly fashionable Italian dresses but there was something off, something awkward about her gait and expression. Laura guffawed loudly making no attempt to hide her mirth. Isabella looked at me and we both giggled. Edward's mouth fell open and he gawped like a fish.

Caroline took in our reactions in one wide sweep of the room. In an instant she colored deep crimson, turned on her heel and fled the room. Our laughter chased her from the room until the door slammed in her wake.

It was a good five minutes until we had regained our composure. Edward had begun a few questions but had not been able to elicit a serious response from any of us. By the time we were calm enough to answer him he was impatient and annoyed. Laura grabbed my hand; it was time for us to leave him and Isabella together. They had much to discuss.

Mr. Cullen's POV

I really had no idea what was going on between Bosie, Laura and Caroline but I knew that I had time to discover their secrets later. What would brook no time was the disappointment and hurt I saw in Isabella's eyes. I'd had a whole evening to mull things over. More than enough time staring at the candles burning slowly down in my room to realize that there could be nothing that I would allow to come between myself and this beautiful woman I loved. I had paced the floor all night debating whether I could risk going to her room and telling her the whole tale, throwing myself upon her mercy as I divulged the extent of my sins.

Sometime after dawn another emotion had washed though my room, anger. I was angry with Caroline, her audacity and her spectacularly appalling timing of her return to London. Angry with me for my utter stupidity in not confessing all to Isabella before any of this could damage what we had spent our time carefully building. Eventually, weary and exhausted I was angry with Isabella. Angry with her for not accepting me as I had accepted her. It might have been foolish and inconsiderate of me not to have explained my former relationships but I had never lied about my past. I had told her I was a bad man. I had not been lying.

Now she sat next to me, her eyes cast onto the white tablecloth and her fingers toying with a piece of toast.

"I'm sorry," I began and then she began to speak so quickly that I almost failed to comprehend her words.

"I am sorry too Edward. You had warned me of your less than respectable past and I was naive enough to not allow myself to think of what that might mean. I should have expected Lady Caroline and if not her, then someone like her. I have one question which I would like you to answer and then you will never have to justify yourself or your actions to me, as I hope I will not to you." She added after a pause. I nodded and inclined my head to show her I was willing to answer her questions honestly. "Did you love her?"

The enquiry was so ridiculous, so utterly ludicrous that, without meaning to do so, I laughed aloud. Isabella started at the sudden noise, and then tears sprang to her eyes. For a moment I was at a loss to understand this reaction to my mirth and then I realized she thought I was laughing at her. Hurriedly I clutched her hands on the table. They lay limp in my grasp, unwilling to commit to a gesture of affection until she had the answers she desired.

"Good God, no! She was, what Bosie likes to call, a shag! Do you know what that means?" she shook her head quickly. I went on, "a shag is a person who one enjoys a romp with when the mood strikes but is in no uncertain terms NOT whom one would wish to spend any other part of one's existence! That's about it the long and short of it Isabella, she was a pastime, a game which I grew tired of playing once I realize what game she was playing!" I tipped her face towards me and smiled at her look of astonishment. The servant who had been serving the breakfast politely looked away and then turned his back altogether as I pressed her heavenly moth to mine. At first she resisted, her mouth staying firmly closed beneath my own but I persisted and she yielded to my kisses with a sigh. The familiar lightning bolt of desire flashed through my person. I had never felt this with another woman, how could I let a petty dalliance jeopardize this rare jewel? Reluctantly I pulled away; I had to know her second question.

"What was the other thing you wanted to know?" I rested my forehead against her own and drank in the sweet scent of her skin. So intoxicating was her aroma that I wished I could inhale forever and let her permeate my entire being with her perfume.

"Why did you not tell me about her?" her voice was small, timid, in the space we had created, that familiar circle of our intimacy. I breathed a sigh of frustration with myself. Just the question I had been demanding of myself all night.

"I cannot say for certain Isabella but I think my silence was due to my fear of what the true knowledge of my past would do to us, to you. I have been quite honest about my previous life but I think on some deeper level I thought that, if you knew the depths of my transgressions, you would not love me anymore." There, I had said it. Relief at the lifting of a silence washed through me.

"You were right to worry," she replied simply and I caught my breath. Surely she would not now leave and call off our affiance? "It seems I too am the hypocrite Edward. I was angry that you had done... things with Lady Caroline." She struggled with the words and I wished that I could help her. "But I had no right to that anger, you have never been anything but honest with me." to my surprise her hand slid to my knee where it stroked gently along my thigh. Relief and desire are a potent combination and I felt arousal throbbing within me. Isabella grinned wickedly at my quickening breath. "You did say that you were a very, bad man." Each of these last words was punctuated by a flick of her fingers against my now hard manhood. I sucked in my breath, anxiously suppressing a moan of lust.

She stood from the table abruptly, her chair clattering across the floor. She bent towards me, her mouth at my ear.

"Perhaps you will be able to demonstrate that badness, "her tongue lapped her lip as she finished the word, and my throat became quite dry, "at Laura's masked ball this evening." She walked confidently for the room leaving me half undone in her wake.

* * *

Did you enjoy Laura's plan as much as I did? We seem to have some new Roguettes on board, thank you so much for your reviews and kind words. You are all sparkly stars!

This story wouldn't happen if Chandler1200 didn't keep me sane (you're the nicest person I've never met! lol) , Reg didn't snigger when she reads it and the Twi tini's weren't the crazy babes they are! A rousing 'Huzzah' to you all!!

I'd also like to raise a festive toast to Awesomesauce76 and RaindropsToo. You girls are lovely!!

Onwards! To the Masked Ball!!


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N I never do this but... go now and find a pic of Jude Law and Bosie before you read this. It's worth it!!! As Chandler1200 would say, 'See you at the bottom!'**

Miss Swan's POV

I awoke the next morning to a blinding white light as Shannon whipped back the curtains to reveal a landscape swathed in a white mink blanket of snow. From my bed I could see it lay thickly on the trees, weighing down the branches and bending the lower boughs until they swept against the densely covered fields.

"Snow!" I was at once awake, throwing back the bed covers and running to the window. My thin cotton nightdress was no match for the nippy winter chill and my feet were stinging from the icy bare floorboards. Shannon had lit the fire but even the steady blaze she had kindled could not keep out the fierce cold.

"Yes Miss," Shannon wrapped a soft blanket over me and pressed a morning cup of tea into my hand as I stood at the window, mesmerised by the spectacular scene unfolding outside. "And still falling. I doubt the guests from London will get through this." She handed me a piece of buttered toast and pulled a chair across the room so that I might eat my breakfast and look out of the window.

The sky was a thick white, textured as though I might be able to stretch an arm outside and touch its softly feathered edges. From this grey whiteness a flurry of large and heavy snowflakes fell. They swirled from the sky in eddies and currents and joined their cousins where they smothered the landscape, coating the whole land with a layer so thick it smoothed out the dips and hillocks in the fields to an even, blank page. The long drive and the lawns were all as one, the snow left no indication of their presence. The ornate fountain which has stood out as a romantic silhouette the night I had arrived was now a shapeless mound of white. It was as though the snow had rubbed out any trace of mankind, returning the countryside to the unspoilt splendour which had reigned before people had built their homes and rode in carriages. It was enchanting and a little frightening.

At home I had seen snow, indeed some of our winters were bitterly cold but there was something about this English snow. It held a magical quality, the silence and isolation of it all conjured a mysterious feeling within me. Suddenly I was once again reminded of the age of this land. I felt as though I might see Romans, or ancient Britons come tramping through the woods or that the stillness might be disturbed by the arrival of some of Laura's Elizabethan ancestors riding ahead of a royal party, hurrying to warn of an imminent royal visit.

I was still wrapped in this curious reverie when the door to my room opened and Laura burst upon me. She was wrapped in a heavy, green velvet dressing gown and she threw herself dramatically on the bed. Shannon barely looked up from stoking the fire at this unladylike behaviour but she said nothing, merely quirking up the corners of her mouth in amusement; I was beginning to like the outspoken Irish girl more and more.

"Bastard snow!" Laura exclaimed sitting up to lean on one elbow and stare balefully at the offending weather as it continued to spin out of the sky oblivious to her anger. "No one will get here from London for tonight!" She fell back on the bed and growled. Shannon held out a cup of tea to the still prostrate body. Without sitting up Laura reached out her hand and took the saucer. "Thank you Shannon." She sat up smoothly, not spilling a drop and gave the maid a wink. Shannon blushed and turned to the toast rack. It was only then I realised that Shannon was in my room serving my breakfast. Surely she was Laura's maid?

"Laura, thank you for sending Shannon to make breakfast. You're such a dear. I think your housekeeper was going to send someone up but it's so much nicer having someone I know here in the morning." Shannon smiled as she buttered the toast; the smile was one which hid a secret.

"My dear, Shannon is my present to you!" My expression must have shown my confusion for Laura laughed lightly and carried on, "I have employed her as your maid. You can't possibly be in polite society without your own maid." I began to protest, I could not afford with my own money to pay Shannon the wages with which she had been furnished by the Wildes and I did not know how I could bring up this topic. Over my time in England I had realised that the British were most peculiar about the subject of finances, something with which I had struggled to remember in my first few days here. Laura interrupted my stuttering, "I am paying her Isabella! I have already paid her wages for the next ten years! After that Edward will deal with the rest I am sure."

So this was the secret hidden behind Shannon's smile! I had my own maid! I hugged the blanket to me, a feeling of belonging, of acceptance, washed over me. Laura must have known how I longed to part of her world, part of the society to which I had been allowed to glimpse. I had been acutely aware of my position as a guest and, even though the Wilde's had made me as welcome as a family member, there were little differences between us which I could not overlook. One such difference had been Libby, Constance's maid. She was a dear, but I was always aware that she was stretching her time between two mistresses. Now I had my own maid and one who knew the Wilde household.

"God, don't cry Isabella! Try to be a little English!" Laura's eyes were shining and I knew this was false mockery born out of a desire not to cry herself. I laughed and wiped my eyes.

"Thank you Laura. Thank you! You will have to excuse my New World ways!" We laughed together as Shannon busied herself around the room, pouring more tea and tidying the plates away, a broad smile lighting up her face as she worked. For a few moments there was contented silence as we chewed our toast and sipped our tea, all the while the snow flurrying out of the sky and covering the outside world in white.

"So, no Masked Ball tonight!" Laura sighed frowning at the offending weather which seemed to spite her by snowing all the more. She sighed and rubbed at the window which was covered in a light mist of condensation. The scene outside was more vivid for her clearing away the haze but no more comforting. "God. How dull! We really must think of some diversion!"

"We could always play that game of Hide and Seek you promised?" I suggested, hoping to distract her from her mood, which seemed to be becoming as frosty as the sparkling landscape. Laura turned to me, her eyes alight with fun.

"Swan! You're a bloody genius! What an absolutely marvellous idea!" She leapt up from the bed and, handing Shannon her tea cup and plate, dashed from the room. Shannon raised an eyebrow as the door slammed.

Bosie's POV

Eddie and I were sitting on the cushioned twin window seats in his room eating toasted currant tea cakes when Laura appeared in a flurry of emerald velvet and vivacity. She grabbed Edward's teacake from his hand and bit into it, grinning broadly. Sighing Edward got up and pushed another onto his toasting fork and thrust it into the flames of the fire.

"Boys! Boys!" Her mouth was still full and it was just the kind of behaviour I had seen her father scold her for on numerous occasions as we had grown up. None of which had had the slightest impact on Laura's personality or her actions. I raised my eyebrows with curiosity. "Hide and Seek!" she exclaimed through the teacake." Tonight! The whole house is fair bounds!"

Edward turned from the fire a slow smile spreading across his face. I had played Hide and Seek with he and Laura before and it had ended in some memorable moments.

"Teams or are we hunting alone?" His eyebrows waggled and he ran his fingers through his untidy hair. Laura paused for a moment and pretended to think.

"What would you prefer?" she asked teasingly. Edward looked at me and shot me a wink. His expression was unmistakingly lustful. Surely he wasn't going to?

"Pairs." He said decisively, "Bosie will hunt with me." He laughed at my shocked expression.

"You're going to share? With me?" I stuttered, not quite sure I had understood his thinking.

"Why not? We shared with Lola!" He grinned broadly, "You can watch," his smile grew wider, more lascivious, "at least at first..." Laura gasped and held her hand to her mouth, feigning shock, mocking my open mouth and wide eyes. I gulped.

"Won't Isabella... I mean she...." Edward leant towards me and laid a finger over my lips. There was no mistaking the predatory gleam in his eye.

"I promise to make sure you are most welcome, Bosie darling." He leaned further towards me and replaced his finger with his lips.

Mr Cullen's POV

The ladies scattered from the room, Isabella carried with them in their flight like a leaf whipped away by the wind. I nursed my brandy glass and leaned against the fireplace surveying my fellow huntsmen. Eyes gleamed with anticipation in the warm light of the fire and the candelabras glittered from the polished table tops. A low murmur of conversation did not hide the excitement thrumming through the room. Our party was made up mainly of young couples, glad of Laura's hastily prepared diversion and fully aware that the evening was an opportunity for some saucy sport without the prying eyes of our elders. Of course a few of the Seekers would be unaware of the illicit tumblings of the evening and this made the game so much more fun. Someone made a ribald comment and a smattering of laughter quickly dies down as the counting began in earnest.

Miss Swan's POV

Laura grabbed my hand and we ran up the stairs and along the corridor which lead to our rooms.

"It's too obvious!" I hissed but she looked back to me briefly and shook her head.

"This way!" she tugged my hand and we ran on. Portraits flashed by, their ancient gazes disapproving and cold. In their faces I saw traces of the ebullient woman who raced ahead of me, her skirts gathered in one hand and my own hand gripped in her other. She turned suddenly, pulling me after her through a heavy door. She let go of my hand to wrench at the door behind me and it closed with a quiet click. I looked around and gasped. It was a library.

Books filled every wall, they reached up to the ceiling where dim and dusty ancient tomes crowded together on the highest shelves. A large fire crackled and spat in the grate and two wing backed chairs flanked the flaming centrepiece. It reminded me of Lord Choughton's library where I had overheard Bosie and Edward's conversation all those nights ago. The night of Madam Chang's. I looked at Laura, seeing again the dusky wanton who had helped Edward in my seduction. She grinned wickedly as though she could divine my thoughts.

The room was warm and it occurred to me that the books must provide some extra insulation against the cold outside. Laura led me to a window where a heavy curtain fell to the floor.

"Hide here!" she whispered lifting back the curtain to reveal another velvet drape which sealed off the cold window from the room. The double insulation left a space just wide enough for me to stand in without my form pressing against the outer curtain and revealing me to the room. Then she turned to leave.

"Wait!" I hissed, "Aren't you hiding with me?"

"No, I have another perfect hiding spot in mind!" She flashed a savage grin and was gone.

It seemed hours that I stood in the dark. No light penetrated between the curtains and I felt my heart beat faster at every small sound. I have no idea how long I waited. I had some indication from the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece but it did not seem to chime the hour and I was just beginning to wonder if the game was up and I was unfound when it surprisingly chimed midnight and I heard the library door open. Careful footsteps crossed the floor but it was hard to distinguish if they came from one or two sets of feet. A hand pressed against the curtain and I tried to be still. There was a low chuckle which sounded familiar. I strained my ears and stopped breathing, listening hard.

A hand snaked behind the curtain and caressed my face. The fingers were long and tapering, I would know them anywhere. They traced my brow and brushed my lips, a tingle ran through my body and I held back a sigh. The curtain brushed aside briefly and I caught a glimpse of bronze hair glinting in the light and then it was darkness again. I heard him breathing and a tremor ran through me. His hands were holding my face and his lips were on mine. He crushed my mouth to his and, while one hand held the back of my head in a tight grip, his other roamed my body. His fingers played over my neck and traced down my collarbone to where my loose dress gathered with a tie. Laura had recommended I wear a soft, informal day dress which would be easier to hide in than a stiff gown with starched skirts and a wide silhouette which would easily reveal my hiding place. I was so glad I had listened to her advice as Edward's hand played over the ribbon of the neckline and he pulled at the knot.

My breathing hitched and I heard him moan into my mouth as his tongue played with the corner of my lip. I moaned in return and ran my hand through his hair and pulled him to me all the more tightly. A movement behind me startled me and I half turned but Edward held me firmly and renewed his hot open kisses on my mouth. He took the hand which wound in his hair and pulled it down his body, trailing my fingers over my own hard nipples and the curve of my breast until it rested between his legs. He was hard and staining at the fabric of his trousers. I moaned again and he sucked in his breath, releasing my lips from his kiss as he panted heavily. I stroked languorously at his hard flesh. The heat and stiffness of his erection communicating his desire to me as much as his small moans and gasps as I stroked faster. His pulled me close to him, crushing my hand between us and his fingers ran over my breasts, nipping and tugging. Fire coursed through me and I felt as though I might combust from the flames of desire beating at my tortured flesh. His hands released my nipples and, before I could protest, he snatched up my skirts and ran his hot fingers along my thighs to my quim. As his fingers teased and flirted with my damp curls another pair of hands took up the occupation of kneading my nipples.

My eyes flew open, I tried to pull away and look behind me but someone was pressed against me. I could feel their hard member at my back as they continued to knead my aroused flesh. A mouth was at my ear and a familiar voice whispered.

"Enjoy yourself Isabella, it's all just fun." Bosie! My mind raced to understand, what was he doing here? Why was he...? Didn't he prefer...? Edward's mouth left mine and I heard his dark chuckle.

"All fun darling and Bosie has the most delightful hands in the game." He leaned over my shoulder, his fingers still toying with my maddening ardent flesh and I watched as Edward's lips met Bosie's full pout. Their kiss was slow, familiar and I watched with mounting desire as their tongues twined together, their hands still sending me into delicious rapture. The image of them kissing played havoc with my heartbeat and Bosie's fingers were now stroking and pulling in a rhythm with their lips and Edward's fingers on my quim. For a while I stood and drank in their ministrations just watching their mouths moving together and hearing their sighs as they both ground their bodies against me. I was reminded of that first evening at Madam Chang's when Lola had been the go between for mine and Edward's pleasure. I had not known her then and this moment with Bosie seemed so much more familiar and somehow right than even that erotic encounter.

My hands were limp at my sides as I passively accepted their touches. Edward's fingers dipped inside me and I felt the swelling warmth in my belly. As my breathing became ragged Edward pulled from Bosie's kiss and began to suck and lick my neck, sending shivers through me. The hand which was not engaged beneath my skirt took hold of my chin and arched my neck back until I half turned to face Bosie. Bosie's eyes were heavily lidded with desire and his warm mouth pressed against mine. He tasted of Edward and brandy. His mouth was fuller and more sculpted than Edward's and I licked along his lips and he groaned into my kiss. He and Edward thrust against me, the fingers swirling against my bud of lust and the fingers at my breasts all becoming one sensation. I had to repay the pleasure they were affording to me. I reached forward with one hand and grasped Edward's cock, deftly flicking open the buttons on his trousers and feeling his soft, hard skin in my palm. My other hand felt behind me and I offered the same gesture to Bosie's straining member. In unison both men groaned, their chests heaving with their breath and crushing me between them.

I stroked my hands upwards, grasping and squeezing with each stroke. Bosie's cock was of equal length as Edward's but of slightly lesser girth. My arm ached with the pressure of reaching behind me but the movement of their bodies and their insistent fingers became all consuming and the aching in my muscles faded away as I felt my release build. Our mouths mingled. First Bosie and I teased and thrust our tongues together, then Edward's mouth claimed my own and then I watched with eyes wide with desire and panting breath as these beautiful men devoured each other's lips. We moaned and whispered desperate oaths and compliments to each other. Our bodies ground together as we reached together for our peak of ecstasy. Wordlessly, panting and gasping, I felt them spilling into my hands. The erotic picture of us burned into my mind. Their mutual pleasure ignited and consumed me and I came, shuddering, between them.

We leaned together, breathing heavily, hand smoothing over bodies, careless of their owner. We kissed lazily and with a new familiarity.

"I think we found you." Edward chuckled into my hair. I looked up into his eyes and held his gaze as I pressed my lips to Bosie's sweet mouth.

"Lady Caroline doesn't know what she missed!" I giggled.

* * *

Now do you see why I insisted on you looking at Jude Law as Bosie? I couldn't have you imagining this scene with anyone but the delectable Mr Law playing Bosie, that mouth, good god!

Leave me a review and let me know what you thought of the game. It's so nice to have your feedback; it makes the writing so much easier when I have some encouragement. I always worry slightly when I post.

Thanks go to my faithful and regular reading reviewers Awsonesauce76 and RaindropsToo – you are delightful creatures as Lady Laura might say! Thanks also to the Twi tinis for their encouragement and hysterical emails. A big hug for my Chander1200 – what DID I do BC??? And a big kiss to Reg, who looked after me when I crashed the car, makes me cups of tea and is someone I wouldn't share with ANYONE


	27. Chapter 27

A/N - without wanting to sound like one of those writers who bangs on in their A/N I just wanted to reiterate how important it is that you find a picture of Jude law as Bosie for this story. Having said that, I'll leave you alone now!

Bosie's POV

I really hadn't expected Isabella's enthusiasm at bringing me into her amorous encounter with Edward and I had to say that I had been pleasantly surprised. Contrary to certain scurrilous rumours, no doubt bandied about by Lady Laura Ashton, I was not exclusive in my enjoyment of young male bodies and had had numerous girls over the years. It is true that my experiences with the female sex were few and that most of these experiences had taken place with another male present, in situations not dissimilar from that of the prior evening. It is also true that by 'another male' I actually mean Mr Edward Cullen.

It was Edward who had shown me the delights to be had from the desires of a woman, he who had shared his conquests with me (and also with Lola) and so it had been no real surprise to me that he would offer to introduce Isabella to our already established but delightful ménage a trois. Isabella's reaction was much more shocking.

I knew she has shared an experience with Lola before she had been introduced to Laura. I knew that she was a willing participant of some of the more decadent vices on offer at Madam Chang's. Laura had recounted with zest Edward's 'apology' to Salomé, for such I believed was Isabella's alter ego. However she had not shown any inclination, as far as I knew, to add another man to her 'amours'.

So when her neck arched back under Edward's guiding hand and her sweet lips had found my own I was thoroughly taken aback. This initial sensation was quickly succeeded by an overwhelming desire and so, when her hands met my straining erection, I was too far gone for coherent thought to consider it further.

I was replaying the delights of the previous evening when there was a timid knock at my door and Radcliffe, my manservant and familiar with my own brand of depravity, ushered Isabella's maid, Shannon, into the room with a wry smile and closed the door behind him. Smiling, and deliberately misunderstanding, I threw back the covers and patted the mattress invitingly. An enticing blush spread from her throat and she clutched a hand to her bosom.

"Ah no, no!" her Irish accent was more pronounced in her anxiety. "I've just brought a message from Miss Swan!" She practically flung the envelope which had been clutched in her hand and fled the room muttering something about British aristocracy and their 'bloody sex drive'. I made a mental note to question Laura as to exactly what the girl meant. The note was on a pale pink paper which I remembered Laura buying for Isabella on a trip into town. The delicate scent of roses filled my nostrils as I opened the tightly folded missive.

'Bosie,' it read, 'please do come and have breakfast with me in my rooms. I have some questions and a proposition to put to you. Yours, Isabella xx (P.S thank you for the wonderful evening!)' I called Radcliffe into my room and asked him to fetch my heavy dressing gown and slippers. He nodded once and was gone, returning a moment later with the fur lined robe and the thick slippers which were proving to be essential in Laura's freezing family home. I enquired if he knew the way to Miss Swan's bedchamber and, without a change in his expression to show his thoughts; he pointed the way down the corridor I should go.

Shannon opened the door at my knock and led me through to Isabella's boudoir with a raised eyebrow. As she hurried ahead of me I was sorely tempted, just for the sake of fun, to grab her round behind which swung seductively as she walked. But I kept my hands to myself. After all dear reader; it was hardly the polite way to enter a lady's boudoir. The room was pleasingly decorated in Laura's style of red and black French silks, heavily embroidered cushions were strewn about the floor and curtains of the same bold fabric swathed the windows and the four poster bed. Perched in the window seat wearing a fur lined robe almost identical to my own was Miss Swan. Shannon knelt by the fire and pushed a crumpet onto her toasting fork. I could see from the table with its butter knife, jam and teapot that Isabella was enjoying breakfast made in her room as Edward and I had done at Oxford. Obviously Edward had passed this very English way of dining to his delightful American fiancé.

"Bosie! Good morning darling!" Isabella offered me her cheek to kiss. As my lips barely brushed the soft skin of her face two thoughts struck me. Firstly, I noticed that she was becoming more and more like Laura, or was it Edward or myself she was beginning to resemble? Breakfast in her room, inviting guests to join her, the fur robe and the cheek kissing were not the characteristics I had at first associated with the shy ingénue who I had encountered at Oscar's soiree. But she wore them all with ease and grace as though she had been born to them. Edward had truly found his ideal match in this woman. None of these recently acquired behaviours smacked of pretention or falseness in her; she simply was one of us now. The habits and customs we had developed between us as we had grown closer had grafted to her personality seamlessly. No doubt we would all begin to exhibit some of Miss Swan's quirks very soon. I smiled to myself at the thought.

My second thought was of how utterly absent of embarrassment or discomfort was her greeting. She clearly thought that there was little to be embarrassed or uncomfortable about the fact that last night she had wanked off both myself and her husband to be while we had helped her to her own release by way of our hands. This was truly a testament to her mettle. Even though my thoughts were moving along these lines, I was still surprised at her reason for inviting me to breakfast with her.

She patted the window seat beside her and tucked her feet up under her gown. Shannon passed me a plate with a hot buttered crumpet and a cup which she filled with Earl Grey tea. I gave her a suggestive wink and she rolled her eyes before she turned back to the fire to toast another crumpet. Isabella poked me with her toe.

"Bosie, I've got some questions for you! Do you mind?"

"Depends what they are sweetheart," I replied cheekily. She pouted and then carried on.

"I wanted to ask about you and Edward."

"Oh?" I sipped my tea and watched her over the rim of the cup.

"How did you meet? Have you always...been intimate?" it was her turn to sip her tea and watch. I leant back against the wood of the window sill. Outside was still a world of white, although it had stopped snowing now and Laura's groundsmen were busy shovelling snow off the drive to allow the guests for tonight's masked ball access to the house.

"It was at a party some boy was having in his rooms at Oxford," Isabella nodded, encouraging me to tell the story, "and, yes, we have always been intimate!" I laughed now, looking at her face to gauge her reaction. I need not have feared, she laughed too and I was certain there was no jealously between us at all.

"More intimate or less intimate than last night?" So, there was a point we were coming to. I bit into my crumpet and spent a moment mopping the melted butter from my chin with a napkin from a table by the window.

"Sometimes more, sometimes less." I shrugged, hoping that this was not going to become awkward. I needn't have worried.

"So, you'd be a good person to help me with what he.... likes?" She could not disguise the hopeful tone in her voice and I quickly looked up from my breakfast to see her eager expression. "Oh Bosie, I do so want to please him and I really haven't a clue how!" she exclaimed, grabbing my arm with her hand. "I would ask Laura but I'm sure she thinks I'm all experienced now....after...."

"Madam Chang's." I finished the sentence for her and she nodded eagerly. Of course, Laura had described the scene at Chang's and obviously thought that Isabella knew all about how to please a man. But how could she know these things? If Edward was to be understood, she hadn't had any previous carnal experience and he had not shown her anything himself. The poor child must have been in turmoil thinking that her ignorance and inexperience would be shown at any intimate moment. It was my duty as her friend and, as Edward's friend also, to show her what I could. "What do you want to know?" I asked grabbing her hand in return and communicating my enthusiasm by throwing down my crumpet, much to Shannon's disgust.

"Oh, everything! I haven't got a clue really...how to touch a man," I had to interrupt.

"You did a splendid job of touching two men last night if I rightly recall!" We laughed.

"No, no I was just guessing! And there are other things I'd like to learn too!" I raised an eyebrow in question and Shannon hurried from the room, her haste implying she was afraid to hear any more. Isabella watched her go and giggled. "I want to know how to pleasure him...with my mouth." The last word was a whisper with a giggle behind it. I gasped in mock surprise, causing Isabella to nearly spill her tea with the gales of laughter issuing from her delicate frame.

"How do you suggest I model that behaviour for your education?" I laughed, "With a cucumber?" Isabella laughed too, leaning her head towards me until our foreheads touched and her lips were moments from my own. She whispered.

"I thought you might demonstrate your technique with Edward," she whispered. My eyes grew wide as the audacity of her suggestion sunk in to my brain. "And then I thought you might instruct me as I practice." I reached up and grabbed the back of her head with my hand and kissed her full on the mouth.

"Darling girl, you are a priceless gem and I would be more than happy to instruct you in my dark secrets!"

Mr Edward Cullen's POV 

Bosie popped by my room late in the morning. He seemed distracted, wandering about picking up ornaments and scrutinising them with unseeing eyes before placing them back and wandering again. I knew him too well to imagine that this was any regret about our previous evening's encounter and so I waited patiently and watched his wandering over the ironed edge of the copy of The Times which I was reading. The newspapers had only just begun to reach Ashton Hall now that some of the roads were cleared and I was eager to catch up on the news from the city. After a few minutes of pacing and several more ornaments he sat in the chair opposite mine.

"Edward are you busy this afternoon?" his hand crunched down on the smooth paper which I was reading so his face became visible. His expression was one of excitement but also apprehension. I indicated the crumpled newspaper in my hands and shrugged.

"Clearly not old boy, why what have you in mind?"

He smiled secretively and sat back in the chair, steepling his fingers together in an attitude which would not have been remiss in one of Conan Doyle's infamous villains.

"Bosie?" my tone was warning but I smiled at his obvious delight in his secret.

"I have a small.... entertainment planned." He said finally, pushing himself up from his chair and crossing the room swiftly until he stood in front of me, closer than would have normally been polite. He bent his head and pressed his lips against my own. The gesture was familiar and yet more surprising since my alliance with Isabella. Bosie and I had certainly enjoyed each other and not always exclusively but, until last night, he had not approached me in a physical way at all. His full mouth brushed my lips and, quite unintentionally, I found myself responding. His kiss had all the thrill of the well-known and the unprovoked. Our movements became merged, our bodies falling into a familiar pattern of his lips against mine, his tongue gently probing. It was when I felt this thrill communicated to the rest of my body that I began to pull back. Bosie sensed my new hesitation and stood away from me again. He went to the door and opened it. A mysteriously cloaked figure entered the room and I had just the time to recognise the peacock feather mask and the delicious curves of her body before Bosie pulled the heavy curtains across the window and settled the room in darkness.

The flickering fire cast everything in a dim orange glow. Bosie's silhouette bent before the fire and he threw a couple of logs into the grate. The yellow flames and the hissing, popping sparks briefly illuminated Salomé who was in the process of throwing back her cape to reveal a dark red kimono which swept from her shoulders and brushed the floor. As she walked towards Bosie her slim leg, divinely pale and shapely, peeked from a long slit which dove from her hip to her feet. My breath caught in my throat and my cock, half hard from the remembrance of Bosie's kiss throbbed in my tight morning trousers.

Instead of crossing to me Salomé stepped in front of the fire and beckoned to Bosie. I could see from his expression that she had him firmly in her thrall. Her long fingers wound in the hair on the back of his head and she pulled him into a long kiss. Instead of the flicker of jealousy or even anger which I'm sure, dear reader, would be customary amongst my less experienced friends, I instead felt a delicious frisson of desire. Bosie, though not possessing my height, still had to bend to meet the demanding kisses which Salomé was coaxing from his lips. I could hear his breathing quicken and Salomé's hiss of pleasure as she lifted her leg and hooked it over his hip, wriggling herself nearer to him. Bosie leaned back from the kiss long enough to hold her leg under the knee and I watched as he pulled her body to him forcefully, slowly thrusting his hips in a rhythm which matched their joined mouths. My body reacted with a jolt, a tremor of energy tingling through me and settling on my now hard cock. I fell back into my armchair to watch the show.

Their bodies moved slowly as though time itself was slowing and stretching out this forbidden pleasure. Despite the fact that I was fully aware that this display was for my delectation, I also could tell from their sighs and movements that Bosie and Isabella were enjoying each other's caresses. I felt certain that they were also enjoying my prying eyes as I drank in the sight of them both, writhing against each other, small moans and pants coming from their sensual lips. This charming vision continued for a few more minutes, their thrusting and groaning increasing in tempo and causing in me such a burning of lust that I began to reach down and touch myself through the restraining fabric of my trousers. Salomé's eyes, rolled back in their sockets with intense pleasure, slowly rolled towards me and I saw that she was watching me. She was watching me pleasure myself as she ground her wet cunny against Bosie's obvious erection. The dynamics of the room became intolerably intense and I groaned with them as the realisation that Salomé was orchestrating this entire scene for her own pleasure penetrated my lust addled brain.

Salome pulled away from Bosie's clutching embrace and I could see how aroused she had become from the dark stain over the unmistakable outline of Bosie's erection. Another thrill trembled through me as she prowled towards me, tugging Bosie's hand so that they were standing before me, slumped in the armchair. I made to sit up but Bosie's hand pushed me down, pressing my back against the chair by way of his hands on my shoulders. He held me there for a few moments and they both looked at me. I felt them drinking me in with their eyes, lust written in their languid postures and Salomé's arms looped about Bosie's waist.

Bosie's hands continued to hold me down while his eyes closed and he moaned softly. For a second I was confused until is saw that Salomé's hands were now travelling over his chest, pinching at the dark nipples which showed up hard against his white shirt. Lower and lower they tickled and teased until they came to the clinging fabric over his crotch. The long fingertips played with his hard length and he thrust against them, his body weight still holding me motionless in the chair but now unintentionally as he braced himself against me. From the base to the tip she stroked him expertly. I knew what those fingers could do, what delights and tortures they were capable of when they busied themselves with inflamed male flesh. My own member was painfully hard now and once again I brought my hands into my lap. Salomé looked at me from beside the delicious image of Bosie, head thrown back in lust, as she brought him nearer and nearer to release.

"No." She said. I moved my hands away and gripped the leather arms of the chair with my fingers. Her fingers still moved against Bosie's body but now she was unbuttoning his trousers. She pulled them down and he obediently stepped out of them, still resting his weight on my shoulders. His white underwear bulged obscenely and Salomé disposed of them, tapping his hip lightly to indicate he was to extricate his feet. "Look at him." she whispered and I was not sure to which of us she spoke. Bosie's blue eyes found my own. There was such a sensuality about him, about his leaning on me as though for support, while this woman, my woman, stroked him with her long, elegant fingers. His eyes, beautiful even in the most mundane moments, were like a fire which travelled my body as his eyes dipped from my gaze and he looked down at my aroused and captive body.

Salomé stood to the side of us both, her hand leaving Bosie's body as he thrust desperately against them. Silhouetted by the fire her body was marble and silk, her soft curves accentuated and embraced by the kimono's dark folds.

"Touch him," she said quietly. Bosie dropped to his knees before me. He didn't look at my face as he unbuttoned my trousers, his fingers brushing against my aching flesh as he pushed away my clothes. For a brief moment the change in temperature beat at my skin and I felt my blood pounding in my ears as my member sprang free of the cotton and stood inches from Bosie's face. His gentle breath brushed against me and I shuddered. His hand, broad and strong but soft as only the hand of a man who has done no hard labour in his life can be, began at the base of my cock and slowly stroked upwards. After the torment of being untouched this gentle caress was almost too much for me to bear and Bosie knew this too. His gestures were slow enough to ignite in me a fierce desire but also paced to allow me time to adjust to the delightful sensation. As he reached the tip his palm smoothed over the head of my cock and I sucked in my breath as the moisture which had gathered there lubricated his hand as he swept it towards my body again. Even through my lust filled haze I could see that Bosie was looking at Salomé, who in turn was watching his movements with the utmost attention. It was then that the realisation struck me that he was teaching her. A groan came from deep in my body, elicited by Bosie's knowing hands but also from the knowledge that Salomé was using Bosie's expertise to show her how to please me. Bosie's hand picked up a pace and soon I was panting and thrusting against his smooth palm as he gently rubbed the tip of my glistening member with the soft skin of his hand.

Salomé's hand touched his shoulder and Bosie stood aside, his cock hard and slick with his own desire. Salomé knelt between my legs, her eyes firmly fixed on my erection which pulsed gently with the blood which had engorged it to a tortured state. Instead of touching me as I had expected, and dear reader I hoped and prayed for her touch, she parted the folds of her kimono and instead her hands trailed down her own breasts and, while one tugged and toyed with her hard nipple, the other fell between her legs. After a second or two, in which she closed her eyes and panted so delightfully that it could not have been more obvious that her fingers played with her own lustful flesh, her hand came back up and they glistened in the firelight. I heard Bosie's breath catch and realised that she had moistened her fingers with her own desire. Intently watching her hand, indeed Bosie's eyes and my own were both riveted to that same spot, she gently stroked her slippery hand from the base of my cock to the tip, her actions mirroring Bosie's own perfectly. Whether it was the extraordinary gentleness of her caress, the exquisite softness of her skin, the knowledge that the substance which slicked and lubricated her ministrations was from her own wet cunny or Bosie's watching eyes I do not know, but I had never before felt such enthralling desire and pleasure. I would have thrown back my head and closed my eyes but for the entrancing vision of Salomé moving her palm over my hard flesh.

Bosie leant and whispered in her ear and she smiled up at him. Her free arm stretched up and she slowly caressed him as he stood beside her once more, using his technique on his own body. For a moment there was silence but for the rustle of silk and cotton, the small moans and sighs of Bosie and I as we endured the pleasure of Salomé's hands. After a moment she ceased to play with Bosie and brought her hand down until it was out of my sight. Her hand continued its sweet torture along my shaft, slowly and twisting now slightly when she reached the tip and I did not expect my pleasure to become any greater. But then her other hand gently cupped my bollocks. The effect of this gesture was so immediate and so unexpected that I felt my body tightened and I feared I might release right there. Then the cupping subsided to a tickling, scratching motion which, coupled with her stroking, was so delightful that all my consciousness was focussed on that one area situated between my legs. Unconscious of the action I thrust my hips forward, widening my knees and opening my body to her hands. I felt her soft hair brush against my leg as she looked towards Bosie and then, heaven of forbidden pleasures, I felt her slim finger pushing gently at my entrance. Tense and tight as I was the pressure of her finger alone was not enough to secure her access and her finger disappeared for a moment only to return a second later wet and slippery. I had no time to think of what the substance allowing her to penetrate my body might be before she was in me to the knuckle while her hand played along my hard cock and her other fingers played carefully with my balls.

Dear reader, if the Lord himself had then decided to cut my cord of earthly existence and trammel up my worth it would have been a smiling and happy Edward Cullen who would have stood before my maker. The friction of her hands and fingers built in me a tremendous, desperate pleasure from which I was sure there could be no further ascendance. I was wrong.

Salome's hand which had stoked my cock into such delicious agonies was gone and instead I felt a warm, wet mouth enveloping the tip of my member. I opened my eyes to see Salomé continuing her stroking but only as far along my length as was allowed by Bosie's full, red mouth sucking on the head. He licked his lips and I knew he was tasting her arousal there. He rolled his eyes to look at me and I swear I saw him wink as he dipped his head lower, taking more and more of me into his mouth as Salomé's stroked what flesh he had not swallowed with her soft hand. Her hand was replaced as Bosie took more and more of me into his mouth. He breathed deeply through his nose and bobbed his head forward, I felt the tip of my cock at his throat. Salome's fingers scratched and teased my soft skin, another finger thrust inside me slick and consuming in its probing. Bosie mouth thrust against me with shallow movements, each one causing my cock to press at the back of his throat. I growled and grabbed his head ready to thrust into him and find my release. With some force he removed my hand and slowly sucked up along my length until he pulled away complexly, a string of saliva stretched between us for a moment. My disappointment was but momentary as then Salomé, her devious fingers still thrusting and tickling at my body, placed her delicious mouth on the tip of my cock.

In exquisite parallel of Bosie's movements, she sucked and flicked at the underside of my cock with her tongue while her hands continued to have me teetering on the edge of abandon. Lower and lower her mouth swept until I was as far as I was sure I could go. I felt her deep breath against my skin as she pushed herself down, for a moment the tip of my cock caresseing her soft throat muscles. She coughed slightly; I felt her mouth tighten around me while she fought to control her body's reflexes. Bosie bent and whispered something to her, smoothing her hair from her forehead with his hands and kissing her temple lightly as she remained motionless, breathing hard. Then she quickly moved downwards on me again and this time I felt myself slide past that invisible barrier until I was in her to the hilt and her nose was pressed near to my body. Her tiny, quick thrusts were rapidly brining me to release. Instinctively I reached down my hands to her head but Bosie snatched them up and brought them to his own straining member. My hands began to find their rhythm with Salomé's mouth. I heard my grunting moan and Bosie's quickening breath. I panicked, knowing that my release was imminent but fearing that she might not be prepared for the result of my undoing. I tried to sit up, to motion for her to stop but Bosie's hands pushed me down. His look told me that Salomé was entirely aware of the consequences of her actions.

"She wants this." He whispered before closing his eyes as my hands continued their movements. Salome's mouth was tight around me and together Bosie and I exploded in a fierce release which left white stars behind my closed lids.

When I opened my eyes, Salomé was slowly levering herself away from my body, her elbows pressed against the side of the armchair. Consciousness flooded me and I touched her face in concern. Had I hurt her? Was she disgusted with me? With my taste? Her eyes meeting mine she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled. Then she looked at Bosie, who was leaning against the side of the chair, his arm thrown over my shoulder.

"You didn't tell me what to do at the end." She smiled, peeling off the peacock feather mask. "I had to invent my own ending." I caressed her face as she knelt on the floor with her cheek against my knee.

"I think you were a wonderful pupil, don't' you?" I looked up to Bosie's soft lips smiling. He nodded and ruffled my hair with his hand.

"You've always been so predictable Cullen!" he grinned.

* * *

I have to thank Chandler1200 for all of Bosie's 'pointers for blowjobs' here mentioned! She is the queen of all things oral and I bow at her feet. You rock!!

Continued thanks to the tinis, Awesomesauce76 (i watched first 3 episodes of conchords yesterday and love it!) and RaindropsToo whose dedication to the story is such that she watched' Wilde' last week, you know what I mean about Bosie now don't you?

As, always thank you to Reg for her support and inspiration. Not sure how my new knowledge will help us out but...all knowledge is power!! Grin.


	28. Chapter 28

This chapter is for Kirbs, thank for the encouraging review JUST when I needed it! See you at the bottom, as a good friend of mine would say!

Miss Swan's POV

I rushed back to my rooms bursting with my new found power and knowledge. Bosie's lesson had been more successful than I could have hoped and Edward's reaction had been one of delight and passion. When I had removed my mask and Bosie had swung back the heavy curtains Edward pulled me to him, crushing me to him and raising my chin so that he could press his soft lips against mine ardently. I had begun to protest, surely there lingered some traces of my recent actions on my lips but he pulled me to him all the more tightly as I shrank back.

"No Isabella," his voice was low and serious, "hold nothing back." His tongue found mine and a thrill of the forbidden trembled through me at the thought that he must surely taste his own expulsion in the kiss.

All this was buzzing around in my head like a swarm of happy bees when I burst into my room expecting to find Shannon dutifully laying out my costume for the evening's masked ball. My rooms were empty, the fire had grown low in the grate and the weak winter sunshine was peering through the windows as it sank in the east. For a moment I stood quietly and absorbed the solitude. It seemed strange to me that I was alone for, since I had come to London, my life had become full of society and gaiety. To think that I had wondered if I might feel lonely away from Mama and Papa!

Eventually the room became dark and chilled and so, not being a high born lady unused to fending for herself I put a few more logs on the fire and lit the lamps. When the fire was blazing and there was still no sign of Shannon I decided to visit Laura. I wanted to regale her with the story of the afternoon, all my embarrassment at my naivety gone now that I was an experienced woman of the world.

As I walked along the dark corridors, watched by the long line of Laura's ancestors I began to wonder about the last piece to my erotic education, the deed itself. Edward was quite adamant that we should wait for our wedding night and, although I agreed with him on account of my terror of pregnancy before I was properly wedded, I also shared the feelings of Laura and Bosie who argue that this final step should not be allowed to grow so monstrous in my imagination that the deed become filled with terror. I mused to myself as I walked the wooden floors. How could I know what I was missing? I wondered. But then my body did seem to know what is desired. Indeed when Edward kissed me and toyed with my body I felt a yearning and a strange hollowness that longed to be filled up and completed. My legs would find themselves parted and my most intimate feminine parts would grind themselves against him almost of their own will. I chuckled at the thought of the carriage ride to Madam Chang's after the theatre. How close we had come to our undoing! And then I thought of Edward, putting aside his own masculine desires for my wellbeing.

Laura's door was before me and I knocked, cocking my ear to the door, expecting to hear her getting dressed. Usually Laura would banter with the servants, taking the cosmetic brush, the hairbrush and the stocking s out of their hands as they tried to help her dress. Tonight I could hear nothing. Wait; perhaps there was the faintest of rustling, the gentlest of sighs? I raised my eyebrows, had Laura a young man with her? I waited one moment longer and was half turned to go back the way I had come when I heard Laura's unmistakable laugh.

"Who is it?" she called, her voice filled with mirth. It seemed the other occupant of the room was attempting to silence Lady Ashton, who shouted all the louder. "Who is it?"

"Isabella!" I shouted back, unsure what to say and unused to shouting through closed doors. More laughter and rustling greeted my reply.

"Come in!" I turned the handle and went into the room. All was dark and only the fire in the grate gave any light to the scene before me. I went to the table and lit a lamp, turning the small button on the side to brighten the flame.

Laura was sitting up in the large bed, her hair beautifully awry and her face flushed. She was clearly naked beneath the heavy coverings and there was obviously someone in the bed with her. The obscured lover wriggled and said something in a muffled tone. Laura looked at the squirming blankets and raised an eyebrow to me, which only rendered her more comical and lovely.

"Oh she knows silly! Or she would do soon at any rate, sit up pet!" she shook the covers from her bedfellow and the hidden figure slowly sat up.

Shannon's hair was similarly tangled and her face too bore a rosy sheen. Whether this was from the sport in which she had obviously been engaged in previous to my knocking or the embarrassment she was now feeling I was at a loss to decipher.

"Miss...." she mumbled and tried to curtsey despite the wrapping of the bedclothes and her obviously undressed state. I looked at Shannon and then at Laura. Laura began to laugh, a deep amused chuckle which I had heard on several occasions. In the face of such a scene I began to laugh too. Shannon, now a shade of crimson which would be the envy of every cardinal in Rome, tied to slither out of the bed whilst maintaining her dignity. I passed her the discarded clothes from where they lay on the floor. Behind the curtain of the great bed she scrambled into them and was raking her fingers through her hair in attempt to tie it back when Laura leaned across the bed. Her movement caused the blankets to fall back and I was treated to a view of her softly curved back and her round behind as she planted a sloppy kiss on Shannon's mouth.

"Miss Swan isn't going to be cross, dear heart. Are you?" she turned to me, quizzing me with one eyebrow. I shook my head and tried not to giggle.

"Shannon?" the maid jumped. "Would you draw me a bath? And get out my costume for this evening?" without another word the poor girl fled the room. I turned back to Laura. "Really! I might have had to draw my own bath Laura! What were you thinking?" at my mock anger Laura dissolved into more giggles and I joined her.

*****

After dinner all the guests retired to change for the ball. Shannon had spent an age dressing me in my Juliet costume. Although she chattered on about the party and the beautiful satins of my gown, the delightful tiny pearls which were stitched to the lavishly embroidered bodice matching the ones on the cap and net I wore over my coiled hair, she did not say a word about my discovery of her that afternoon. I followed her lead and we talked as though nothing had occurred which might have been out of the ordinary way of things. I think I saw some gratitude in her expression as she handed me the small reticule in which she had put my tiny scent bottle and the small pot of rouge.

"Have a lovely evening Miss. You look just like Juliet, all beautiful and innocent." She smiled as she placed the short rose pink cape about my shoulders.

"Thank you Shannon, you work so hard for me, I am awfully grateful, dear heart." I couldn't help adding Laura's favourite pet name and was rewarded by Shannon's blush which rendered her a similar shade to my cape. I decided to cease my teasing and go downstairs where I could already hear the music playing and the tinkle of glasses.

*************

As I entered the room I saw Bosie bounding towards me. He was wearing the most risqué outfit I could have imagined. Most of his lean, muscled body was naked, save for a short, silver toga which draped nonchalantly across his left nipple and settled itself over his hips daringly. His beautiful curled hair was glittered with silver and he wore a silver laurel wreath across his brows. Silver sandals laced up his legs to his knees and, as he came towards me a champagne glass outstretched in his hand, I noticed that all of his bare flesh had been painted a subtle shimmering silver tone. He bounced on his toes in front of me, spilling the champagne and risking a fainting from the young men lounging against the wall, who were eying him with wolfish curiosity. Their attention was not wasted on Bosie who, after handing me the now half finished champagne glass, bowed a low bow to his admirers, no doubt they had a more fulfilled view of Bosie's charms as he swept the ground with one languorous hand. When he stood again his eyes were twinkling.

"Ah, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun! How the devil are you my dear? I'm cupid. "He said waving a hand over his lack of costume. I laughed and glanced to his audience who, if I could read their looks correctly were thinking sinful thoughts about the young god before me.

"Of course you are Bosie, who else could you be?" I took his offered arm and he walked me to where Laura and Edward stood together talking. Edward had to lean quite over in order to hear what Laura was saying. The skirt of her dress stood out in a dramatic sweep around her and took up most of the corner where she and Edward were standing. As she turned I saw her face was powdered to within an inch of its life. Her lips were two bright crimson cherries, painted dramatically in a sulky moue; one enormous beauty spot in the shape of a heart was painted onto her cheek just below the pink dusting of blush. There was no doubt in anyone's mind as to which character Laura had dressed. But it was her wig which stole the spotlight from her costume. The thing was enormous, almost as tall as her entire upper body it teetered marvellously on her white brows. The magnificent silver frosted hair was coiled and curled to represent a churning sea, spidery silver webs of a fishing net swung as she turned her head. Perched atop it all, like the most fantastical wedding cake ever imagined was a silver galleon. Its sails were full and they sparkled as the fabric fluttered against the chains of the rigging. Tiny cannons poked through the ports on the side of the vessel, the crow's nest soared to another seven inches above the main wig and, good god, there were even little replica sailors drowning beautifully in her elaborate coiffeur. She was a spectacle.

"My goodness Laura! What an outfit!" I gasped out, barely registering Edward's presence as the enormity of the entire ensemble sailed into view. Laura shrugged her white shoulders and gestured lazily at her hair.

"This old thing? Dear heart I simply threw it on!" Edward took the empty glass from my hand and replaced it with a brimming one as he laughed with us all.

"You look beautiful." he whispered to me. His eyes glittered in the candlelight and his Romeo costume seemed to only enhance his air of romance. His fingers brushed mine lightly and I felt a tremor of desire course through me, would it always be this way?

"I'd say she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear, wouldn't you Eddie?" Bosie drawled. Edward laughed turning to him.

"No, old boy I'd say she teaches the torches to burn bright!" it was Bosie's turn to giggle.

"And I'd say is there any cake?" trilled Laura, causing us all to laugh all the harder. So busy were we in our amusement that we did not notice our two new arrivals until they were fully upon us.

Lord Arthur was dressed in a leather skirt, slashed to his thighs and decorated with heavy looking metal studs. His chest was covered with a leather armoured breastplate which was sculpted to muscles he didn't own and a similarly fashioned helmet trailed from one hand, he held a champagne glass in the other, the little finger extended in a comical fashion. Beside his was Lady Caroline, swathed in a dark red gown and her face painted like an exotic Greek figure on a vase.

"Greetings!" Lord Arthur banged his fist dramatically over his heart; the effect was ruined somewhat by the spilling of champagne over his armour.

"What have you come as?" asked Bosie in a voice as sharp as diamonds. We all leaned together to hear the answer.

"I," here Arthur turned his face in profile to us all, "am a roman gladiator!" it was then I noticed the wooden sword slung at his waist. "I had a net and a trident too but..." he searched about him as though they might be tangled at his feet."I lost them...." he trailed off.

"And you are a Turkish carpet seller's wife?" Bosie's tone was still all acid and spite. Lady Caroline pulled herself to her, not inconsiderable, height and looked down her very roman nose at us all.

"I am Medea! Wife of Jason!" she announced theatrically.

"Are you?" Bosie inquired as though he was regarding something new and exotic at the London zoo.

"Who?" blurted Laura over her champagne glass. She turned to Bosie and said in a mock whisper loud enough to be heard by the entire room. "Is she the one with the snakes?"

"No that's Medusa!" Bosie sipped his drink. "Anyway, what do you want?" he turned back to the Greek murderess and the puny gladiator.

"I just thought you might like to know that Lord Arthur and I have been exchanging stories." Announced Lady Caroline in a majestic fashion marred only by her hitching her robes about her like a fishwife.

"Turns her boyfriends to pigs?" offered Laura intelligibly. Bosie sighed and looked over his shoulder at her tiny face under the mountain of hair.

"Circe. What have your stories got to do with us?" he turned back to where Lady Caroline was leaning on Lord Arthur's arm, the poor man looked as though he might fall over.

"Well..." he stammered, "it seems that we all have something in common in this circle." he raised an eyebrow suggestively and leered at Edward who suddenly began to take notice of the new arrivals. Laura leant forward.

"Fucked her son?" Bosie turned to her very slowly. Very deliberately and enunciating perfectly he spoke.

"Jocasta."

"What do we all have in common?" asked Edward, a dangerous edge to his voice. Arthur laughed behind his hand and Caroline rolled her eyes.

"Well Eddie dearest, it seems you are what we all have in common. As in, we've all had you." I took a sharp breath, of course I knew that Edward had been close to both Caroline and Arthur but their stating of this fact was a step across a boundary which I had come to take for granted. As debauched and licentious as they might be, the English never spoke about it and certainly not in public. And this was public. People in nearby groups were pretending not to hear but from their frantic glances and over animated discussions one could tell they were all ears.

"Fucked by a swan?" Laura asked in an infuriated tone. Edward looked as though he was about to speak. Laura looked at me and, having got the joke, began to giggle. Bosie handed her another glass of champagne although, with the alarming manner with which her wig was swaying she hardly needed it, and whispered to her fiercely.

"Medea, killed her children? Fed them to her husband?" Laura's face was blank for a moment and then the light of realisation dawned across her face. She nodded happily.

"Of course! Ate the children!" she turned back to the conversation, clearly happy she had solved the mystery. She looked from Lord Arthur to Lady Caroline and then at her dress and then to Bosie. "Bosie!" she announced as imperious as only Marie Antoinette could be, "this is dreadful!"

"What is?" Bosie's brows knotted together in concern. As he followed her gaze from Arthur to his own person, then from Caroline to Laura.

"They are! It's like we're being played by two lower class actors in a musical in Yorkshire!" she smiled happily at her analogy. Bosie began to laugh, soon they were both clutching each other with mirth and Laura's wig looked about to topple and kill us all.

Lady Caroline sniffed and was about to continue her threats I have no doubt when Edward leant forward and grasped her wrist. From her expression one could tell this was no playful gesture and her face grew pale.

"Listen there is one person in this group who I have not 'had', as you so charmingly phrased it Caroline, and two who I wished in all the world I had not. Now if this is a threat to me, my friends or my fiancé," he paused and there was real anger in his eyes. I saw Lord Arthur gulp. "Then I shall be forced to take it most seriously. If you have truly discussed my reputation then you must know I make no idle threat when I say that I will not stand by and let our lives be ruined by a pair of jealous, fly blown harlots!" all this was delivered in a low whisper, he smiled as he stood back from their ashen faces. They had seems something feral, something predatory in his expression and I too had witnessed that dangerous creature lurking behind his handsome face.

Lady Caroline mumbled something and took a step backwards. Arthur, his hand on his wooden sword as though it might defend him, followed after her like a meek lamb.

"Really second rate and cheap imitations!" laughed Bosie at their retreating backs.

"Killed the children and ate them!" chuckled Laura. I looked at Edward. He grasped two glasses from a passing servant and presented one to me with a Shakespearean flourish. All of the danger and menace had gone from his expression and he was once again the sweet, darling man who I loved. As I watched him laughing and joking with his friends I found it hard to believe that he had once worn an expression as feral and as threatening as the one which with I had seen him turn upon our two enemies.

***********

So, did you enjoy the party? I hope so. RL has been a turmoil recently and I'm sorry this took so long. Your reviews really do make a difference when a chapter is hard to get out, time is short and patience is thin. Thanks so much to Awesomesauce76 for being my lemon mummy, the Tinis for their constant support, my darling ficwife (!) Chandler1200 for being the best thing on the internet and Reg for being the best thing off it!!


	29. Chapter 29

Miss Swan's POV

Breakfast the next morning was a much subdued affair and I suspected that the effects of the alcohol and rich food were to blame for the depleted numbers at the breakfast tables. Shannon had already packed my luggage and I was to travel back to London with the Wilde's as Laura had some business with which to attend before she could make the journey to the city. Bosie and Edward dashed off early, Edward still eating his toast as he kissed me chastely upon the cheek and rushed outside to where Bosie held the door of the carriage open for him. I was left with the sight of them waving like schoolboys from the windows and a scattering of crumbs on my cheek. I had no idea what the rush was about but I knew better than to ask them when they were in one of their giddy moods.

Constance and I chatted about the weekend's events as we drove at a more sedate pace through the English countryside. In veiled terms I told her of the incident with Lady Caroline and she agreed with me that the woman was 'perfectly horrid'.

"I really don't know what Edward ever saw in her, do you Oscar dear?" Constance turned to her husband who was alternating between staring dreamily out of the window and jotting furiously on a note book in his hand. He glanced to us, obviously ignorant of the subject of which we spoke and nodded absently. Constance sighed and shrugged at me. "You must grow familiar with this sight dear Isabella, "she waved her hand in the direction of Oscar and his window, "men are dammed difficult to fathom!" At her exclamation Oscar raised a laconic eyebrow and we laughed at his attention to her words but not the emotion which accompanied them.

The rest of the journey was spent with us all peering out onto the scene which flashed by our windows. Constance pointing out this landmark and telling me the history of that village or town. Eventually the building grew more densely packed together and the green fields more and more scarce until we found ourselves bustling through the capital city I had grown to love.

How to describe to you London on that beautiful morning, dear reader. The boys scurrying around and in front of the the hurtling carriages, carrying their packages and messages. The horses of the well to do, shiny and beautiful alongside the muddy and the unkempt animals of the merchants' drays. The brightly polished brasses of the front doors of smart houses and the deliveries of coal, food and casks of wine which were being carried around to the servants doors at the back of these fine abodes. Women and men walked the streets arm in arm dressed in the latest fashions and the carriages which sped by us transported the wealthier citizens on their weekly rounds of visits to friends and the expensive shops of the West End. All was bustle and noise and I thrilled to the sight of this place which I was now proud to call home.

The thoughts of the great city also brought to my mind the remembrance (really, had I actually forgotten?) that Mama and Papa would soon be here too. I would have to show them the sights and introduce them to my new friends as well as beginning the preparation for my wedding. At this thought my stomach made a small jump and a cloud of butterflies, it seemed, fluttered in my belly.

I had more cause for concern than I had realised as we reached the house on Tithe Street and found such a flurry of activity one might have thought we were preparing for a visit from Her Majesty Queen Victoria herself. Constance met Mrs Hudson the housekeeper in the hallway where she was both bossing the girls to change the bed linen and the boys to bring in the boxes of wine bottles which had just been delivered to the servants' entrance.

"What is going on?" asked Constance, a frown of concern shadowing her beautiful face. "Where are the children?" There was no anger in her tone and I knew that she would trust her housekeeper's judgement in any affair which had caused her to organise the household in such a manner. The older, smaller woman turned to her in a flurry of starched skirts and reddened cheeks.

"Oh Mrs. Wilde! Thank god you're home!" For a moment I thought Mrs. Hudson might throw herself upon Constance and hug her, evidently Constance thought so too as she took a step back from the small whirlwind of a woman. "The boys are with Nanny at the park. We got a message last night that Mr. and Mrs. Swan," here her eyes glanced to me and she ghosted a curtsey that she had no time to perform correctly, "were to arrive this morning in London!" Constance's eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. I confess my brain must have been addled from the food and drink at Ashton Hall for it took me a moment to absorb her words. Mrs Hudson carried on, not pausing in her waving of instructions and flapping her hands. "It turns out they're staying with a Mrs. Fenton, a friend of their family, in Bond St but they're coming here this evening!" She stopped in her explanation to shove a servant carrying a huge pile of linen up the stairs. "I haven't had time to change the beds, rearrange the flowers in the white room or prepare lunch I'm afraid." Constance made as if to speak, to assure Mrs. Hudson that she understood the problem but the smaller woman seemed not to pause for breath. "It'll all be ship shape and Bristol fashion by four!"

Constance spun on her heel propelling me before her out into the street and indicating to our driver that the carriage should wait.

"We'll lunch at the Savoy, Mrs. Hudson!" she cried over her shoulder. "When the children arrive, give them some supper and a bath and I'll put them to bed myself before the Swans arrive!" As the carriage pulled away I saw Mrs. Hudson chiding the coal man for making a mess of the white pavement outside the house and grabbing a servant boy to clear up the black footprints. The windows of the house were open and maids were beating carpets and shaking out curtains. It was as though the whole house had been thrown into action rather like a battleship. I looked over at Constance who was looking in a small mirror and tucking her hair back into its pins beneath her hat. She smiled at me through the mirror and then leant over to tweak my cheek affectionately.

"It's best this way Isabella, "she smiled and sat back into the upholstered seat, "at least we won't have any dreadful apprehension if they cone to dinner tonight."

Mrs Renée Swan's POV

I could easily see why my daughter loved this city. Its people were so polite and formal and yet, one felt, that beneath their manners and respectability there was a real human warmth and care about them. The history of the place seemed to seep into their voices and the streets were so busy that it appeared to be like that of a fairy tale town. It had been my husband's idea to keep from alerting Isabella to our arrival, I think he hoped to surprise her. Charles has an especially soft spot for his only child and sometimes he still treats her as though she were a little girl. I had worried about his reaction when she had written to me to ask for our blessing on her engagement to this Mr. Cullen but he had merely nodded at the dinner table and gone back to reading the day's newspaper. I knew him too well to think that this would be the end of his interest in this mysterious new suitor who had plans to take from him his little girl. As a woman, I appreciated the panic a sudden announcement of our arrival could cause for Mrs. Wilde and so I arranged a note to be delivered to the Wilde's housekeeper early on the morning we arrived in London.

We spent the rest of the morning settling into Eleanor Fenton's huge town house. It was marvellous to see Eleanor, we had been friends when I had been a young girl before her family had moved back to their native London and we had written frequent letters ever since. She had been first to suggest that Isabella might like to stay with her on her visit to Europe but an unfortunate illness had meant the change of plans which had lead to Isabella staying with the Wilde's and now meeting her new fiancé. How strange that the small twists and turns of our lives lead us to events which will shape us forever.

Eleanor's house was very grand with a vast army it seemed of servants. We were taking some tea in the weak spring sunshine of the library when a servant arrived with a letter for Mr. Swan. He took the note, read it and then, without a word to myself or Eleanor, made his excuses and left the table, taking his coat and cane from a servant as he went out into the street. Eleanor raised her eyebrows at me and then leant forward in her chair, taking my hands in hers.

"Men!"She chuckled. "Now that I have you alone Renée I want to tell you what I've learnt of Mr. Edward Cullen." I leaned forward and pressed her to go on. Gossip is rarely as stimulating as when it involves your own offspring. "Well, he is very well off, an orphan I believe. He has strong connections with both Lord Ashton's family and the family of Lord Alfred Douglas." My eyes went wide, friend with lords of the realm, how romantic and medieval! Eleanor saw my response and nodded. "The Douglas family are immensely wealthy. They have various estates including one in Scotland, very fashionable, Scotland!" she sighed and sipped her tea.

"And the other family? The.... Ashton's?" I enquired trying not to sound too eager. She sipped her tea and then, maddeningly, nibbled a biscuit whilst I waited.

"My darling, they are simply swimming in money and tradition! Lord Ashton has only one child, Lady Laura Ashton and we all thought that Mr. Cullen might marry her; they are very close although not so close as to cause a scandal. Lord Ashton's wife died when the girl was very young and so her father has encouraged her to befriend other young people of her own age and standing as a kind of replacement for her lack of siblings, I presume. I believe she's grown quite attached to your girl. They've been out at a party at Ashton hall this weekend. Very grand, balls and dinner and such." Eleanor sipped her tea again, revelling in the interesting information she was bestowing upon me.

I sat back in my seat and took small bites from my biscuit. My mind was a flutter of excitement, all the fairy tale lives I had ever imagined for myself as a young girl seemed to be set out in my place for my Isabella! Friends of lords and ladies, balls in country estates and now engagement to a rich eligible bachelor! Really, my cup runneth over! I thought to myself. Then a notion struck me which gave me pause. I put down my biscuit and tea cup, my face grave. Sensing some serious matter Eleanor followed my actions.

"Eleanor!" my teacup rattled in its saucer as I placed it upon the low table. "Is this Mr. Cullen handsome?" Eleanor's face, which had been etched with concern relaxed into a happy smile.

"My dear, he is simply divine!" we laughed with relief. We finished our tea as a servant came to inform us that there was a lady waiting to see us in the drawing room. "Ah! This will be my niece!"Exclaimed Eleanor as she rose from her chair and waited for me to join her in going to meet this young lady. "I thought we might all go out for a spot of lunch, as Charles has already gone we must go alone."

Miss Swan's POV

Constance and I arrived for luncheon having decided that we should invite Mama and Papa to meet Edward tonight at dinner. Constance asked the young man who greeted us at the door of the Savoy if he could send a note to Edward's house requesting his presence for dinner that evening. The young man smiled and took the note saying he would personally see that it was promptly delivered. He rushed away leaving us to another young man who showed us into the Savoy's dining room.

The white linen and the sparkling cutlery and glasses caught in the spring sunshine gave off a gleam of cleanliness and prosperity. Wealthy patrons sipped wine and ate from the thinnest of china, chatting politely about the weather and their friends. I swept the room with a glance as we were taken to our table near a tall window. A few people I knew from Laura's parties raised their hands in a wave and I smiled and waved back. I was just feeling comfortable in my place in London society when I saw something which fairly knocked the wind out of my sails and left me gasping for air. Constance saw my change in manner and rushed to my side as I fell into my seat in a most unladylike fashion and my face grew pale.

"Whatever is the matter dear Isabella?" she followed my shaking finger to where a groups of three women were beckoning to us over the tinkling of silver and glassware. One of them was a middle aged, well dressed woman that I remembered vaguely from my child hood, another was without a doubt my mother, her excited waving and happy smile making tears spring to my eyes but beside her at the table, also waving and smiling a snakelike smile was the towering frame of Lady Caroline Bentham!

There was nothing we could do but go over to their table. My mother was on her feet in flash, first hugging me tightly to her chest and then pushing me back so she could look at me. Then she crushed me to her bosom again. I smiled and tried not to faint from the blood pounding in my ears, my tightly laced corset and the hugging. People at other tables were beginning to stare, my mother's American display of affection standing out most considerably in the refined atmosphere of the Savoy hotel.

"My darling! How well you look, so grown up and so at home at the Savoy!" my mother clasped her hands under her chin and beamed at me. Then she held my hand tightly as she waved for more chairs. We sat down dutifully, Constance's face showing that she now understood my reason for alarm; I watched her eye Lady Caroline ready to defend me at any moment. Mother was talking at top speed, rattling along like a train. The journey here by boat, her thoughts of London, her feelings at the news of my possible engagement, father's sudden departure following a message delivered to him this morning, on and on she went. I must confess, dear reader, that much of this prattle went into one ear and out of the other but for one word. _Possible_ engagement? It would have been most improper of me to question mother in public but blessed Constance saw my plight and questioned for me.

"How marvellous it is to finally meet you Mrs. Swan! My imaginings of you, created from Isabella's glowing words about you and my own opinion on your kind and wonderful daughter, are quite realised!" she enthused squeezing my mother's hand and smiled so dazzlingly that my mother stopped speaking and smiled in reply. "I could not help but notice that you used the word possible in reference to Isabella's engagement to Mr. Cullen? Is there some problem?" Imperceptible to all but myself her eyes slid to Lady Caroline who was sitting rigidly in her chair, her smile as fixed as though it were cast by rigor mortis. My mother poured her tea, oblivious to the waiter who hovered at her elbow to perform the duty for her.

"No, no, no problem, of course not. But I think it is best to speak of the engagement in terms of possibility until Isabella's father has actually met her proposed fiancé don't you?" Before anyone could reply lady Caroline broke in, her voice sounding false and absurdly happy.

"Oh I've known Edward for an age, Renée!" she gasped out, smiling with over familiarity at my mother and using her Christian name as a warning to me to show how great friends they had become. "I can't think of any reason at all why Charles wouldn't find him suitable!"

"Have you met Isabella's father then?" asked Constance acidly, pursing her lips and accepting a cake from the stand in the centre of the table.

"No, but I'm sure he'll just love Eddie, aren't you?" Lady Caroline gushed. I tried hard not to slap her silly face.

"Oh, how foolish of me, I thought you must be old friends from the way you seemed to be on first name terms," concluded Constance, emphasising the word old and delivering her final blow as she sipped her tea. Lady Caroline flushed bright pink and opened and shut her mouth like a fish. Mrs Fenton took the opportunity to steer the talk to that most stalwart of English conversation topics, the weather.

"How frightful it must have been holed up in Lord Ashton's draughty old place in the snow!" she exclaimed shuddering, "why, some parts if it are positively medieval Renée, walls six feet thick and a dungeon!" My mother looked thrilled at this idea and I allowed their excited chatter to wash over me while I thought of how delightfully safe Ashton Hall had seemed and worried about Papa's opinion of Edward.

Lunch was proving to be not unlike a fencing match, with a thrust from Lady Caroline, followed by parry from either Constance or myself. I was beginning to feel quite dizzy with trying to keep up with the arch comments and snide asides when I felt a presence sweep into the room. This is no idly dramatic phrase dear reader, for indeed the whole atmosphere of the room seemed to lighten and become less oppressive and I turned to see who had wrought that is marvellous and welcome change. Sweeping to us from the vestibule was Laura, followed by two menservants carrying large stacks of dress boxes.

Laura effortlessly welcomed my mother with the warmness reserved for friends and, simultaneously treated Lady Caroline with the coldest of shoulders without seeming to break her stride. Indicating for the waiter to place her chair between Lady Caroline and my mother's she sat down and began to help herself to tea, talking ten to the dozen about dresses and shopping for the bride to be. With a start I realised that it was myself to whom she was referring. My mother was in her element. Laura's aristocratic ease of nature coupled with her love of clothes made her my mother's dream friend. I watched with awe as they bickered amicably about styles of wedding dress, traditions for brides and grooms and the best way to send out invitations as though they had known each other all their lives. Lady Caroline's face left us in no doubt that she felt thoroughly ousted and Constance chatted politely to Mrs. Fenton about London shops and where to buy the best hats.

"Lady Laura is quite right!" my mother declared to me over a mountain of boxes, each spilling forth a sample of cloth which I could only fathom was for my wedding dress. "We should have the dress measured and made at the earliest opportunity! Which colour do you prefer Isabella?" It was as though she had entirely forgotten her early comment that my father needed to approve the match before we could begin preparations for the wedding. She gestured to the pastel shades of silk before her.

"Blue?" I stammered.

"Ah, 'love will be true'" quoted Laura sagely and indicating for the servant to take all the other colours away, then changing her mind and waving him back. "Perhaps it might be best to have your dress white Isabella, to compliment your dark hair, or ivory which isn't quite so stark? Please call me Laura, Mrs. Swan," purred the remarkable catalyst for this change in my mother's opinions as she poured another cup of tea and passed it to me. She winked as I took the cup. "After all, your daughter is my dearest friend in the world."

"Then you should call me Renée." My mother smiled radiantly. I choked a little on my tea and both of them turned to me with identical expressions of concern before returning to their conversation. Laura was giving the names of all the best dress makers and describing lace and pearls and silks. My mother seemed somewhat preoccupied; Laura spied this hesitation and correctly assumed its cause.

"I insist upon buying my dear friend's wedding dress," exclaimed Laura patting my hand proprietarily. My mother was about to protest, the wedding dress would be the main expense of the wedding and, although Mama and Papa were by no means poor, the possibility of the thousand pound dress was no doubt a concern for Mama. She was about to protest when Laura dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes. "Renée, I have no doubt that you would wish yourself to buy the dress for your dear daughter but I ask you to be generous in accepting my offer. I have no siblings, no other family than my dear father and I do look upon Isabella as the sister I was never fortunate enough to have." My mother melted. She patted Laura's hand and assured her that she would never allow Papa to buy my dress as Laura had that privilege. Once again I sat in awe of Laura's powers of persuasion.

By the end of luncheon it was decided that in two days time we would go to Ashton House and Laura would summon the dressmakers from the House of Worth in London to fit and design my dress ready for an April wedding next month. My head was spinning with embroidery, flowers and guest lists by the time Constance ushered me to the carriage. My mother kissed me heartily and told me how excited she was to meet Edward tonight and, with anticipation and fear warring for supremacy in my weary mind, we began to journey to Tithe St.

Ok, it's been a long time coming hasn't it this chapter? Sorry I have just had so much to do in RL. Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and stuck with this story from the start and also to the new readers who have only recently discovered us out here in Victorian London. Thanks have to go to Awesomesauce76 and RaindropsToo for being great friends who I found through the fandom and who have inspired new TV addictions and film reviews. Love to the Tinis, especially Passionmama1 (good luck with the application) and Jrh927 (thinking about you this weekend). Thanks to my partner in crime Chandler1200 for her wise sayings 'write it when you want to, writing should not be a chore' and 'that's no small moon'!! Love you babes. And to Reg a big hug for putting up with such a grumpy c(r)ow living in her house. Happy Valentine's Day, love you cx

BTW if we get hit with the 'Literate Union' bullying I'll probably go to 'Twilighted' exclusively bc they are grown ups and can deal with grown up stuff. I would encourage all readers to abandon if this continues, then they might learn something. But you should know what these weirdos are out there, encouraging underage readers to read adult fiction and then complain. Ridiculous and wonderful for paving the way to an even more extreme 'Nanny State' where people can't police themselves and judge what is right for themselves. If you don't like it, don't read it and if you do like it sign the petition! .net/s/5734048/1/


	30. Chapter 30

Miss Swan's POV

Oscar was passing my father a drink as I entered the white drawing room. I had heard their laughter as I came down the stairs and I was happy to see that they seemed to be just as firm friends as they had been when Oscar had visited us on his lecture tour. Papa thrust the glass back to Oscar and rushed across the room to crush me in a fierce embrace. When he released me there were tears sparkling in his eyes and I too felt myself begin to cry.

"Bella, my dear child!" he exclaimed, using my childhood pet name. "you look so well, I was afraid you might have begun to wither in this damp climate!" he turned to Oscar both of them laughing as it was well known that my home town was nearly as blessed with precipitation as was the English countryside. He held my hand tightly and we remained so joined as he took his glass and resumed his conversation with Oscar. I looked around at the party of people in the room. Constance and my mother talking as about children and childhood illnesses, Oscar and my father exchange witticisms about writing and observations about our two countries. Once again if el my eyes brim with tears as I realised her was my real family and my adopted family as comfortable and as easy with each other as though there were no distinction. Papa was still holding my hand when Libby announced the arrival of Lady Laura Ashton and Lord Alfred Douglas.

Bosie swept into the room and shook hands with my father. There seemed to be some exchange of glance between he and my father but before I could tell if I had imagined the exchange it was gone and he was opening the door for Laura.

I have never seen my father cowed by anyone, least of all a woman and so I was surprised to see his reaction to Laura's offer of her hand. He seemed to stammer and become unsure of himself. Laura, seeing this discomfort and guessing it was due to her status immediately spoke.

"Mr. Swan, I almost feel that you might also be my father, as Isabella has become so much like a sister to me. It seems strange that you should kiss my hand when it would be more correct that I might kiss your cheek like a daughter!" and with this exclamation she leant forward and boldly planted her lips upon his cheek in a daughterly fashion. Oscar laughed and so did Mama at the vivid blush which coloured my father's cheeks and hid itself in his beard. He rubbed his cheek awkwardly and mumbled a little until; Bosie charged our glasses once more and proposed a toast to the arrival of 'Isabella and Laura's family' to England! Our glasses clinked together in the firelight and everyone fell to talking.

An hour passed in most friendly conversation, we discussed books and theatre, families and modern inventions. I had an eye on the clock on the mantelpiece and I watched its second hand painfully tick the hour away. Where was Edward? My mother saw my glancing at the time and smiled slightly in reassurance. Laura was by my side and she broke in her conversation of horse racing with my father to squeeze my hand encouragingly.

"Oscar's invitation said seven o' clock," she whispered, "Bosie and I are early because I was eager to meet your father. Edward won't be late."

As she said this we heard Libby answering the front door and the familiar deep tones of Edward's voice caused my stomach to begin its butterfly dance for the second time that day. The door opened and Libby ushered Edward in, taking his cane from him as he came into the room. Dashingly handsome as he always was, he looked a little pale and for the first time I thought about how nervous he must be to meet my parents for the first time. He went immediately to my mother and, after running his hand through his wild hair in a distracted fashion, he kissed her proffered respectfully. I have not seen Mama lost for words but she seemed so taken with him that she stammered something and sipped her drink nervously. Edward smiled gently at her reaction.

"Mrs. Swan, I cannot say how delighted I am finally to meet the woman responsible for bringing my greatest joy and happiness into the world." Mama smiled at Edward and then at me, still remaining silent. I exchanged a look with Laura who was grinning so broadly at my mother's reaction that I thought I might burst out laughing aloud if I looked at her for a moment longer. Edward was now approaching my father.

The atmosphere in the room grew still and an air of tension quivered in the air. The two men regarded each other, both of them tall and towering above all of us but Oscar who remained near the fireplace watching the exchange with caution in his eyes. Edward and my father locked eyes and it seemed to me for all the world to resemble some moment where, in the wilds, two male lions circled each other before a battle for territory. Laura's mouth was open as she too watched them both. Bosie's expression was unreadable and he sipped his drink quietly. My mother and Constance were actually holding hand like women in a penny dreadful watching some awful scene unfold.

"Mr. Swan," Edward's voice was wary as he extended his hand towards my father.

"Mr. Cullen," my father nodded and put out his hand. The tension mounted and the silence became almost intolerable. Just as their hands were to touch Edward threw his arms around my father who, in return, hugged Edward to him. A collective gasp came from all the women in the room, followed by the laughter of the men. Edward, his arm thrown casually about my father's shoulders was laughing so hard I thought he might burst.

"Your face...." he stammered, still laughing rowdily. He looked at my father who was laughing just as hard. "Oh god..."

"Charles, what is the meaning of this?" asked Mama in a tone which brooked no argument. "What is going on?" papa summoned himself up enough to answer her imperious tone.

"This is where I went this afternoon, with Bosie and Oscar." He gestured to the two other culprits who smiled and raised their glasses. "I didn't want to meet Eddie in front of all the women, all formally and stifled and stiff collars. I thought it might be best if we met on different terms." He put his arm affectionately around my mother and pulled me into the embrace too.

"Eddie?" I echoed incredulously looking at where Edward and Bosie were slapping each other on the back in a congratulatory manner. Edward caught my gaze and smiled at me warmly.

"Your father asked if we might want to meet him for dinner at Oscar's club this afternoon." He explained. "He's an honorary member while he's a guest of the Wilde's. We spent the afternoon talking about you, hunting and fishing..."

"And the wedding!" interrupted my father laughing and joining Bosie and Edward in the back slapping. Edward's face became mock serous and he pointed a finger at me.

"Oh yes, the wedding. Did you agree to the wedding Charlie?" he turned once again to my father who was enjoying Bosie's impression of my face at the crucial moment of the jest. My father stopped laughing. He came across the room and took one of my hands in his; with his other he held Edward's hand.

"Nothing would give me greater joy than to give you two my blessing. I would not give my only child and the joy of my life to another unless I was absolutely certain that he loved her as much as I do and of that I am convinced." Behind me I heard a sob and turned to see Laura, Mama and Constance all simultaneously dabbing their eyes. Even Bosie looked emotional as he and Oscar lit a cigarette together.

Even though I felt annoyance at his ruse I looked at Edward and saw in his own eyes the love of which my father spoke shining out at me as clearly as though it were written upon paper. I blinked realising that tears were springing to my eyes and when I looked again Edward was kneeling on the carpet before me, a small red box in his left hand.

It was as thought the world faded into the distance and that only he and I and the ticking clock and the roaring of the fire were present in that room. He took my hands in his right hand, the long graceful fingers easily encompassing my own. It seemed silly for him to kneel at my feet, I wanted him to stand up and hold me, embrace me and make me safe from all the world. As though he understood he chose his next words carefully.

"My dearest love, I want nothing more in the world than to have you by my side as my equal and partner in the world but at this moment I kneel to you as queen of my heart and sovereign of my soul to beg you for the right to call you my wife." His eyes were swimming with emotion and I felt my own hot tears coursing freely down my cheeks. "Please Isabella, will you marry me?" he looked up at me, as though he needed an answer, as though the idea of life apart from each other were not the most unnatural notion I could summon. To put him from any misery that I might cause I spoke quickly.

"Yes, of course yes! I want to marry you!" swiftly he rose to his feet and crushed me to him in a fierce embrace. I reached up and held his face between my hands and kissed him passionately.

"Steady the Buffs!" laughed Bosie, reminding me that, engaged though we now were, this kind of behaviour wasn't considered quite right.

"Sorry," I laughed, catching Papa's eye to gauge his judgement. He was laughing and smiling and holding my mother about the waist. They both looked so proud and happy that it made me happier still.

Edward cleared his throat and I looked back to see him passing me the small red box. With trembling fingers I opened it to find, nestled in a bed of blue velvet, the most delightful engagement ring.

It was a thin golden band and perched atop it was a blue sapphire heart which twinkled and glittered in the candlelight. Around it, nestled like exquisite flowers were clusters and the most sparkling and bright diamonds I had ever seen. Edward took it from the box and held it up to the light, its facets and cut making it flash and dazzling to the eye. He took my hand and gently placed the ring upon my finger, it was a perfect fit.

"How?" I began, but then Laura's giggle told me the answer, she had often leant jewellery to me and she must have told Edward the correct size. "Thank you" I whispered, not sure to whom these thanks were given, to Edward for being so glorious or Laura and Bosie for bringing us together or my parents for accepting my new friends and family or Oscar and Constance for allowing me to stay with them in the first instance.

Suddenly we were engulfed in an embrace from my Mama, closely followed by Laura and Constance. Edward was pounded on the back by Papa and Oscar and Bosie shook his hand firmly.

"I think we'd better go to dinner," laughed Constance clutching her sides and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "I feel faint from hunger after all that emotion." There were sounds of general agreement from the rest of us.

As we followed the others into the dining room I took the opportunity to whisper a few words to Edward.

"That was a rotten trick!" I hissed half smiling to him as he took my arm. "To pretend that you and Papa were not going to be friends!" His fingers ran along the length of mine in most suggestive manner, the familiar but altogether delightful thrill of desire shot through me. He bent towards me until I could feel his breath against my ear, involuntarily I shivered and he chuckled quietly.

"I will endeavour to make it up to you tonight at Chang's." he murmured his breath hot against the exposed skin of my neck. I pulled back and looked at him sharply.

"Chang's?" I whispered, my eyebrows raised and my tone meant to convey disbelief. "Do you think Mama and Papa will allow me to... go to Chang's?" I finished, unable to think of a suitable way to express the impossibility of my parents allowing me to visit a brothel with my best friends and my future husband. Edward chuckled again and Laura turned from her place in front of us on Bosie's arm and gave us a wicked grin.

"I do believe your Mama," here he copied my accent perfectly and I showed him a mock scowl, "has already agreed that you may stay at Ashton House until your.... our wedding day." He corrected and smiled again. "So that you be able to visit Chang's, or gad about in any fashion you might wish until our wedding night my love." He smiled again, all teeth and suggestion. I sighed and grasped his arm with my finger tips. Already I could feel the effects that those thought were having on my body. He leant towards me again, to an outsider it would have seemed he was merely brushing some duct from my dress but his fingers tips stroked a fiery line across the skin where my dress met my breasts. I took a sharp intake of breath and tried not to faint. "Laura says she has a lesson to teach me." I raised my eyebrows at this and looked at Laura's back as she swayed into the dining room and then at Edward, he was smiling that smile of his, where his mouth smirked up at one edge. He slid his eyes towards me. "I intend to work hard at this lesson." He mumbled just loud enough for me to hear. My heart beat loudly in my ears and I barely made it to my seat.

"How was the journey by sea?" Bosie was asking my father as he leant back to allow Libby to serve the soup.

"Marvellous," replied papa sipping his wine and smiling, "I have heard it said that the Atlantic is disappointing but I found it lived up to its reputation." Everyone laughed at Papa's witty reference to Oscar's famous pronunciation on the ocean.

Dinner was lovely. Everyone chatted amicably, the topic of conversation wandered here and there. We laughed and joked and it was as though my parents were the most familiar friends of the Wildes'. Once or twice I caught Edward's eye as he spoke to Bosie and papa and I was quite confounded when he ran his tongue along his lips or licked the sauce from his fingers. My poor heart laboured to keep up with my lustful body and I wondered if I might faint quite away at the table.

"So, how did you meet?" mama enquired of Edward, indicating with her fork that I was the other person in question.

"Oh we met right here, in Oscar's white room." replied Edward, "do you remember that night?" he asked me smiling broadly.

"I do and you were most rude!" I feigned annoyance and then laughed. "Do you remember Bosie how rude he was? He barely spoke to me."

"Why was that?" Mama asked politely even though I could tell she was a little upset by the turn of conversation. I think she had fancied some grand, romantic meeting.

"I believe Mrs Swan that I was so rude because I could not fathom how to speak to this captivating and glorious woman!" he smiled again and Mama clapped her hands together.

"But I was the one who really brought you two together!" exclaimed Laura gaily. I choked a little on my wine and Bosie patted me heartily on the back.

"Really Laura?" Mama wanted to know everything, at least if she asked her questions now there could be no interrogation when we were alone I thought.

"Oh yes, I arranged for Isabella to attend a piano recital at which Edward was playing, didn't I dear?" she smiled at me, wickedly. "She didn't know he would be there and Edward played the most beautiful piece of music which he had written just for her. Didn't you my dear?" Edward smiled, knowing what must come next.

"Oh you play the piano Edward? How lovely! You must play Isabella's piece for us when dinner is over! If that isn't too much to ask?" Mama looked to Edward and Constance wondering if her enthusiasm had been too forward. Constance shook her head and Edward smiled indulgently.

"I believe you were snowed in at the weekend?" Papa tactfully changed the subject before Mama could further exacerbate her situation. "Is your family home far from London lady Laura?"

"You must call me Laura, I insist," she replied accepting a newly filled wine glass from Shannon. The young Irish girl's face was a polite blank but I could see Laura watching her like a hawk watches a mouse. "Ashton Hall is about three hours drive from London but it is worth the time to get away from the city once in awhile. You must all come with us next tine we go down; I'd love to show you the old place." I could see that mama was impressed by the causal nature with which Laura discussed her family seat.

"It's something that is quite sad about our homeland," said Mama wistfully, "that we do not have the ancient ancestral homes that you have here in England." Bosie tutted loudly.

"Well that's what I love about America," he declared, a little drunk and very loud. "none of this aristocracy nonsense to cloud affairs. No lord this or lady such and such. Just good honest men and women." He banged his hand on the table. Oscar who had been uncharacteristically silent until now took up Bosie's hand and patted it reassuringly.

"Ah I fear it is easier for you to imagine being without title and privilege than it would be for you to live without it my dear." Bosie looked as though he was about to retort angrily but then he just smiled and nodded, amiably drunk once again.

"It's probably true," he conceded. "Although I'd jolly well like to see someone treat my father as though he was just an ordinary man of the people!" Papa enquired as to Bosie's father and we sat and listened to Bosie's angry rantings about his family until dessert was brought to the table.

As Laura attacked with relish her meringue she took advantage of the lull in conversation to change the subject.

"How are you acquainted with Lady Bentham?" she asked Mama sweetly, tucking the crisp white desert onto her spoon with her dessert fork. Mama frowned as though she was trying to remember who was lady Bentham, then realisation dawned upon her face.

"Ah! She is Mrs Fenton's niece I believe. Although I don't think she is her aunt by blood, more of a family friend who has become like family." Laura chewed her meringue as though she was deciding what to say next. "Out with it Laura!" laughed mama tapping her hand on the table with mock severity. "It's quite plain that you have something to say about the young lady." Laura laughed at the game and finished her mouthful.

"I am not at all sure that this is quite the setting for what I would like to say about Lady Bentham..."she began and we all laughed at the way that Laura had cleverly manipulated the conversation so that she could now say what she liked about the young lady in question.

"Go on," encouraged Bosie, "you're among friends here Laura!" Laura put down her spoon and sipped her wine thoughtfully. The suspense across the table was almost tangible as we waited for her pronouncement.

"I think she's an awful woman!" she announced setting down her glass decisively. Then she giggled into her hand to indicate that this sort of behaviour wasn't one she was used to at all. I exchanged a glance with Edward who rolled his eyes comically and Bosie who leant forward on his elbows as thought this 'new' turn in Laura's character was simply fascinating. I tried not to laugh too.

"Whatever do you mean my dear?" asked Constance wide eyed, I didn't dare catch her gaze because I knew that she was quite aware of the horror which was Lady Caroline.

"Well, I've heard a rumour, and it's just a rumour mind and so we shouldn't pay it too much attention, that she was engaged more than once when she went to Europe." Laura allowed this information to trickle into our mind's eye before she continued. "And Daddy said that none of the chaps were very suitable and he thought she might have been rather..." she paused her for effect and seemed to be scanning her innocent mind for a word which would best convey Caroline's sins. "Forward with her suitors before the weddings. Which never actually took place anyway." She added looking directly at Mama and Papa to give her delivery full effect.

Bosie gasped and I nearly choked on my last mouthful of meringue. Constance giggled and Edward put his hand to his mouth to convey his surprise. I looked at my friends and wondered if they might not have found employment on the stage, so adept were they in their skills at thespia.

Mama was the first to respond. She shook her head slowly as though she was dreadfully saddened by this news, despite the fact that she had only known lady carolling for an afternoon. Papa cast his eyes down and sniffed, a sure sign he was in complete disapproval of Lady Bentham's shocking behaviour. Then Laura played her ace.

"It might only be a rumour! After all Lady Bentham seemed such a nice girl this afternoon, I have no doubt that this is just a scurrilous tale put about by people who don't know her at all. Perhaps Isabella, Constance and I should invite her to Ashton house for the dress fitting?" mama jumped in to the conversation hastily, putting her hand over Laura's in a protective fashion.

"It's very sweet of you dear to be so kind but I'm afraid that I would not like Isabella to be associated with someone whose reputation is so tarnished, even by an untrue rumour." She added to assure us that she could not believe something so dreadful.

"So close to the wedding it would be unfortunate if any tale about the bride's friends were bandied about," admitted Papa solemnly. "I think it best that you girls keep well away from this Lady Bentham until the wedding and such are all over. Afterwards of course you can be as friendly as you like. No sense in not helping the unfortunate woman back onto the right track when you're an honestly married woman Isabella." He added to me and smiled at Laura. Constance rose from the table seeing that we had all finished our desserts.

"Edward, won't you play that beautiful piece you wrote for your fiancée before we all retire for the evening? Laura and Isabella will have to get back to Ashton House before long. How sad I will be to see you go Isabella, but Laura is quite right, there is much more room for you and your maid at Ashton House. We shall have to meet every day for coffee, I shall miss you so." I crossed the room to Constance and held her hands.

"I will always be your friend Constance; you sheltered me here in your house when I was a stranger to this city. I am sure you are welcome at any time at Ashton House and later at my own house, when I am married." I looked to Edward who was smiling in the doorway.

"Of course you are welcome Constance, as are all our friend. It will not be so different when we are married." My father nudged Edward in the ribs, winking conspiratorially.

"Oh I think you'll find a difference Eddie!" he laughed. Edward laughed and I took his arm as he led me into the parlour. I was having a delightful evening and I had a visit to Madam Chang's to look forward to, what a happy bride to be I was!

So this is for Michele who wanted a proposal....I told you I was writing one didn't I?

Love to Awesomesauce76, RaindropsToo and the Tini girls.

Chandler1200, you are brave and beautiful! I'm so glad you're my friend!

Reg, love you as always.


	31. Chapter 31

Miss Swan's POV

The slim grey fingers of early dawn played across my face and I stretched out, feeling the tension of my muscles relax as I woke. My body was suffused with a pleasant languor which I had come to realise as the symptoms of recent carnal exertions. I smiled sleepily and reached behind my head to pull the pillow down so that I could look at my bed fellows in their deep repose. Soon we would have to wake and leave, Laura and I were expected for the fitting of my wedding dress and Edward and Bosie had arranged to meet Papa at the Savoy for breakfast but for now I wanted to enjoy the sweet sight of my very favourite people resting so peacefully together.

Bosie's handsome features were smoothed in sleep, his lips pursed in the most delightful smile. My mind flickered back to the night before. How he had made to leave us at the top of the stairs, assuming that he and Laura were not welcome in our post engagement celebrations. Edward's expression to me had been inquiring and, with that sense of understanding which still had me marvelling at the profundity of our connection, I understood the question he was wordlessly posing. Without speaking I held my hand out to Bosie. He frowned and held my hand. I pulled him with me into the room, behind us I saw Edward leading Laura in a similar fashion. Laura giggled and the excitement between us all spilled over until we were all laughing as we fell onto the low bed.

My mind was brought from my reminiscences by a gentle sigh which breathed from Bosie's sculpted lips, he stirred and turned upon his side, throwing his arm out across Edward's sleeping form and his fingers gently brushing Laura's arm where she lay curled against my side. Laura was snoring gently, a ladylike, contented sound which made me smile with the warmth of our friendship. What a way I had come from the frightened girl who had first encountered this woman, here in this very room! It was as though she was a sister of my heart, so intense were my feelings for her. I felt no shame or remorse at the way we had explored each other's desires or that I had shared my Edward with her. Indeed it was as though we had all been shared. Each of us revelling in the pleasure we afforded the others.

Memories of the night before flushed my skin with renewed longing as I recalled the feel of Laura's lips on my skin, trailing a sensual path along my body which was held still by Edward's hand cupped over mine on the pillow. Unable, unwilling to move I writhed and stretched as Laura's mouth exacted such sweet torture on my delicate flesh. Before my face Bosie and Edward kissed deeply, their jaws seeming to move in mirror image as they enjoyed each other's mouth and Bosie's hands enjoyed Edward's body.

The night had been a delicious melting and a desperate need to satiate our desires for one another. Our bodies had moulded to skin and muscle, hands slipped over and down into forbidden delights. There had been moans and sighs and whimpering. Each had had their turn of pleasure and of sugared torment, four pairs of hands had caressed and stroked, four soft mouths had nipped and suckled until each of us had been thoroughly loved.

Erotic visions played before me. I sat astride Edward, his manhood nestled between my legs, hard against my desperate body, his thrusts pushing me further and further to the edge of longing. I ached for him to fill me, to claim the empty space inside me which made my blood clamour in my ears but he stroked himself, long and silky smooth, against my enflamed bud, gently opening my body to him but not fulfilling that which I yearned for so intensely. Behind me Bosie held my hips as, also astride Edward, he moved in slow motions against my buttocks, his movements mirroring Edward's teasing hips. Laura's mouth was on mine and her hot fingers nipped and rubbed my erect nipples until I felt I might drown in the blood warm ocean of the pleasure they were affording me. My hands sought her body, slipping over her gentle curves to dip between her legs and my fingers found her own need and my rhythm matched the boys in their thrusting. Laura came first, her cries and movements sparking my own release which seemed to ignite both Edward and Bosie whose pace became more frenzied and less controlled. Panting and smiling we lay together in a tangled heap. Our breathing became slower as fatigue made our limbs heavy and we slept as we fell.

I must confess, dear reader, that my mischievous hand was stealing to the wet juncture of my legs at these memories of the night before when the noise of hooves on the cobbles outside and the simultaneous sound of rustling at the door startled me from my reveries. With my elbow I propped myself up from the pillow in order to hear more clearly and see what had made that strange noise.

It was obvious that there was some commotion outside. Voices were raised in loud whispers as though they were angry but did not want to be heard. I looked to the door just in time to see a small square of paper being pushed under it from the outside. Careful not to wake my companions I eased myself from the bed and padded over the floor to pick up the strange note. Hasty writing scrawled in pencil read 'GET DRESSED. LEAVE NOW. HASTE IS OF THE ESSENCE!'

Panic coursed through me. Without conscious thought I shook my friends awake. Laura was instantly alert, her eyes narrowing as she sat up sharply, dislodging Bosie's hand. She looked at my expression, it must have been one of stark terror, and, without a word I passed her the note. Her eyes flew across the page and then she was pulling at Edward and Bosie, whispering fiercely in their ears and throwing me my travelling cape. In what seemed like moments, we were tumbling down the back stairs of Madam Chang's. My initial reaction to take the front stairs, with which I was most familiar, was checked by a sharp tug on my arm by Bosie who was clutching the rest of our clothes to his chest.

Hal f dressed women and girls were spilling from every room, their pretty foreign features distorted with fear and panic. Men stumbled, hopping into trousers as doors were burst open by bulky men in dark uniforms. There was barging and bustling and an air of desperation as people were manhandled to the floor. A woman's voice was shouting from the bottom of the stairs. Even in our hasty escape I recognised the voice, it was not that of Madam Chang's. Edward's arm enveloped my shoulders as he carefully, but quickly, ushered me down the stair and out into the night. A carriage was waiting in the dark alleyway, the cobbled street slick with dawn light and the drizzle of the morning. Edward pushed us back into the alleyway, searching the face of the driver for recognition. Bosie fell back and dropped the shoes and clothes he was carrying onto the cobble with a clatter which seemed to echo on the muffled street. Shouts from inside the building alerted us to our pursuers. The door of the carriage swung open and Shannon's face, pinched with impatience loomed from the darkness.

"Get in!" she hissed and grabbed at my arm with very little deference. Without a hesitation we stumbled into the carriage, each landing upon the other in a mockery of our actions of the night before. Shannon banged upon the roof and the driver careened dangerously off into the night. Behind us in the distance we heard the shouting and the whistles of London's constabulary as they realised that a number of their intended arrests had escaped their clutches.

We drove at breakneck speed through the Eastend streets until, with a gentleness which seemed at odds with the morning we had experienced, dawn painted the streets with pink and golden light and we saw the familiar houses of the street on which Ashton House stood, just waking in the early hours. The carriage slowed as we approached the rear entrance of the house and stable boys rushed from the mews to collect the horses. None of us had spoken but I could see the concern and the profound realisation of what we had narrowly escaped etched in the frowns and tight lips of my dearest friends.

Still dressed loosely in our cloaks we made our way up the marble stairs to Laura's private drawing room. Shannon bustled before us pouring brandy and stoking up the fire as she noticed our shivering. Laura fell into a chair and pulled her cloak around her. Bosie stroked her hair and I could see how the thought of their near discovery had shaken the aristocratic poise and grace to which I had become so accustomed. Edward's arms were about me and I buried my face into his chest before I realised I was crying. His hands brushed my hair and my face and he kissed my forehead gently. Together we sat at Laura's feet and I held her hand.

"Who wrote the note?" My words wavered and I heard the fear in my voice. Bosie looked at me sharply.

"What note?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn into an uncharacteristic frown as he fought to understand my question. I realised the piece of paper was still in my hand. I unclenched my fingers from its sharp edges and held it to Bosie. He eyes scanned the page in the same sharp way in which I had seen Laura's. His head cocked to one side. "Shannon?" The maid turned from where she was bringing in blankets and a replenished decanter of brandy.

"Yes, Lord Douglas?" her voice was respectful now the immediate danger was over and her soft brogue fell gently over us and I was grateful for the warmth and familiarity in the midst of so much uncertainty.

"Who told you to collect us from Madam Chang's tonight?" Shannon straightened and looked at us with an expression of frankness.

"I thought the gentleman was from your household Lord Douglas. "She answered with a surprised tone. "He spoke awfully nicely, just like you do. "

"What exactly did he say Shannon?" Bosie's voice was sharp but not with anger, more like a dawning thought.

"Well, one of the girls woke me and said there was a gentleman downstairs who was waking up all the house with his banging. I got dressed sharp like and came downstairs to see what was going on. There was a man in the hallway; he had a nice suit on, like you would wear to a fancy party sir. He told me the address and that you needed me to collect you straight away, that there was an emergency and I shouldn't dally."

"What did this man look like?" Bosie's tone was still sharp and he leant forward on the back of Laura's chair to catch every nuance of Shannon's expression.

"At first I thought it was you sir, but I couldn't see his face much, it was dark in the hallway as none of the lamps had been quite lit yet. His voice was very like yours." Bosie looked quickly to Laura and then to Edward. Their expressions were a perfect match, thoughtful and alert like hawks or hunting dogs sensing their prey. Once again I was reminded of the formidable side of Edward's temper as I saw his soft mouth drawn into a harsh line.

"Thank you Shannon for your help," Laura said, the sincerity of her words obvious from her tone." You really rescued us from something terrible this morning." Shannon coloured a deep pink, curtsied far lower than she needed to and rushed from the room. She was obviously ill accustomed to the gratitude of her social betters.

"So now we have an idea of who rescued us," Edward's voice was low and I could hear the menace in his tone. I was also oblivious of the meaning of his words and I waited for an explanation. "But why would your brother be warning us Bosie and who would have instigated a police raid on Madam Chang's?"

Before Laura spoke I knew what she was going to say. The woman's voice which I had heard shrilling out orders and commands in the tumult of the raid would forever be seared into my mind.

"Lady Caroline Bentham." Laura's voice was cold with animosity.

Sorry it's taken so long! Can you forgive me? RL is crazy crazy at the moment! We are moving to the other end of England in the next few months and I just haven't had the time or energy to write. I hope you're not too disappointed with the short chapter but I'm hoping it will spur me on to get more written and end the story.

So, leave me a review and try not to tell me off for how long this took to write!

Love goes to the Tinis for their patience and gentle nudging, to Awesomesauce76 whose new story I have to get on and bloody read! To RaindropsToo for always being a star and of course to my darling OHOB who told me it would come when it wanted to and, as always, was right. Love you muchly sweetness.


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